Lost and Found
by TV Manic 2
Summary: Alex rescues a kid from one of Trask's facilities; a kid that trusts him implicitly and looks to Alex for protection. The last time Alex was trusted with a such a burden he failed. But that Scott and this Scott are definitely not the same person. And Alex won't fail again this time. Basically, this is the story of how Alex found Scott [Post XMFC]
1. Chapter 1

Random spur of the moment fic in a fandom I know very little about. Many liberties have been taken with canon due to me not knowing any. There are some graphic descriptions, but nothing I'd rate above a T. Hope you enjoy.

 **Chapter One**

As the Blackbird landed lightly on the facility roof, Alex had to remember how to breathe.

It wasn't like this was the first time that he had flown; and it was definitely nowhere near the worst flight that he had ever experienced, but sometimes it was hard to remind his lungs of that fact. Methodically, he released his white knuckled grip from the restraints and forced his hands not to shake as he undid the clasp. They had landed. They were on solid ground (well, a roof, but near enough). Flying wasn't so bad after all.

 _Yeah right_.

Opposite him, Sean flashed him a concerned look, but wisely chose to remain silent. He and Hank had caught on to the fact that Alex didn't like to fly, but they didn't know why. It was going to stay that way if Alex had anything to say about it. There was no way he could talk about-

Hell, he could barely _think_ about it.

"Security looks tight," Hank commented as he climbed out of the pilot's chair and into the back of the plane to join them. He frowned, though the expression looked more like a feral scowl with the furry face and fanged teeth. "Tighter than we anticipated."

"Nothing we haven't faced before," Alex shrugged nonchalantly. He pushed all thoughts of flying and planes to the back of his mind, focusing on the here and now. So what if his pulse was still just a tad too fast, he could blame it on pre-mission adrenaline. "The alarm system's still the same as the others, we know we can get round that. A few more guards just means we're gonna have to try for more stealth this time."

Sean and Hank shared a look. One was bright blue, the other screamed really loud. Alex's explosive power wasn't much better. Stealth was not the reason that _they_ had been picked for the X-Men. But they were also all that was left, Alex thought bitterly, so they were gonna have to deal.

"Once we're in, we'll spilt up," Alex continued, ignoring the pair of them. "Hank, you'll head to the databank to try and pull their files, find out what the hell these assholes think they're doing to the kids. Sean, you take the lower level and find the cells, and I'll take the labs. Anything goes sideways, get back to the Blackbird immediately. Any questions?"

Both Hank and Sean shook their heads, though they didn't look overly optimistic. This was the biggest facility that they had hit since Moira had found out about Trask Industries and the side projects that they had hidden under defence contracts. From the two previous missions they had already saved twelve kids – who knew how many they were going to find this time. Logistically, it was a nightmare with just the three of them

But what choice did they have?

They found the roof access easily enough, Beast handling the alarm while Havok made short work of the lock. Once they were inside they moved silently through the halls, passing two guards completely unnoticed before wordlessly splitting up at the intersection they had memorised from the blueprints.

The facility was massive, all long corridors and clinically white rooms; a cross between a labyrinth and a hospital that had Havok back-tracking a few times when he missed the turns. The guards he encountered he took down with the chokehold that Erik had taught him all those months ago (Before Cuba) and hid them inside empty rooms. It wouldn't be long before someone noticed that they were missing, but at least there wasn't a trail of unconscious bodies for them to follow.

Things were going surprisingly smoothly – no alarms or flying bullets were always good – but Havok knew better than to become complacent. That was inviting trouble.

Though apparently, trouble didn't need an invitation.

He was two corridors away from the labs when heard a door open behind him. Havok turned, watching the guard's eyes widen in alarm as he automatically raised his gun. Havok lashed out, snatching the guard's wrist and twisting sharply to force him to drop the gun while simultaneously bringing up his other fist to jab the guard hard in the throat. The guard managed to get half a word out before he was silenced, but apparently that was enough.

Two more guards came around the corner, and Havok rushed to meet them. He disarmed one and swept the legs out from beneath the other, but before he could do much else, another guard came out of nowhere, gun raised.

Havok had very little choice. Gunshots would bring the entire militia stationed at the facility down on him in minutes. He had to stop the guard from firing his weapon, and that meant using his power.

He could already smell burning flesh before his choice had been made; flashes of an alleyway in Nebraska haunting him before he tried to grasp onto the Professor's training. Beast's invention had managed to give Havok's power direction, but it was no less fatal. It was Charles that had taken over teaching Alex control, tempering the energy blasts from blazing lashes down to a concussive force; but it took everything Havok had to hold back.

With a prayer, Havok stretched out his arm, twin circles of light twisting around his hand before unleashing across the corridor. The discs struck the guard hard, harder than Havok had anticipated, and launched him back against the wall with a dull thud.

But nothing was on fire. Nothing was burning.

Havok almost gave a semi-delirious laugh – white spots dancing across his vision – before a jab to the ribs reminded him painfully of the two guards he hadn't quite finished taking down. A few well-placed hits took care of them though, leaving the corridor in silence once more.

Havok slumped against the wall, breathing through the new headache that had formed right behind his eyes. He knew from experience that he could easily take down a building and feel little to no ill effects, but when it came to pulling his punches just _once_ he felt as if he'd gone ten rounds with Magneto.

Why was control so _hard?_

Taking a deep breath, Havok shoved the sudden exhaustion to the back of his mind and climbed back to his feet. He decided to take the time to hide the five guards despite the risk that more could be coming, hoping that stealth was still an advantage that he had. They hadn't made too much noise, considering, and if there had been more men in the vicinity to hear, they would have responded by then. No alarms appeared to have been raised, so Havok took it as a good sign before moving on.

It was just as he reached the wing that housed the labs that he first heard it. A whimpering sound; sobs that wanted to be louder but were held back. Havok felt his blood boil. The cries sounded young, younger still than the kids he had rescued from the other facilities. And then there was an adult voice, clinically recording the kid's reactions.

"—appears to be causing the subject pain," the adult was saying; some mad scientist doctor who didn't seem to care that the ' _subject'_ was just a child.

Havok glanced around the corner of the corridor, noting the two guards outside the door where the voices were coming from. Normally, two guards wouldn't be an issue, but there was no cover between him and the door. They would see him the moment that he stepped out, probably shooting him full of bullet holes before he even made it halfway. Havok sighed, searching for control again as the headache double in intensity.

"—leave me alone, _please_ ," the young voice begged, and Havok fought harder, bringing his power to his hands as he prepared to step out and hope he didn't kill anyone. "Please stay away, I _can't—"_

Red light filled Havok's vision, and it took him a moment to realise that it wasn't him. The guards automatically ducked as the beam cut straight through the wall and beyond, leaving a blackened horizontal slice in the plasterboard. Taking advantage of the distraction, Havok gave up on taming his power and launched across the corridor. He caught one of the guards in a tackle, bringing them both to the floor before taking the man out with a punch to the temple. The other guard swung his gun around but he wasn't quick enough, and Havok brought him down too.

The beam shut off just as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving behind scorch marks and the sickeningly familiar scent of burnt flesh. Havok swallowed down the bile in his throat, trying desperately not throw up as he struggled to stop his mind flashing back. He had to focus on the here and now; on the kid inside that lab that had the same demons haunting them as Havok did.

The door had been split in two and hung limply from the frame, giving easily as Havok pushed it open. On the floor in front of him were the remains of the scientist; the top half of his body separated from the bottom and a surprised expression permanently etched on his face. Havok ignored him, turning instead to the kid strapped to the gurney.

It was a boy, possibly about nine years old, though the scrawny frame made him look younger; his brown hair sweat-soaked and stuck to his forehead. He was panting heavily between sobs, tears shining on his cheeks and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Careful not to make any sudden movements or loud noises, Havok made his way over to the boy. He didn't really know what he was supposed to do. Touching the kid was probably a bad idea, he knew, but beyond that he was clueless. The kids he had rescued before – they hadn't been in the middle of an experiment. And Banshee had been with him then too. The kids liked the ginger for some reason. But this time he was alone, and the kid was terrified.

The kid turned his head in Havok's direction, seeming to know that he was there even with his eyes closed. Havok tried to keep his voice calm and soothing, "Hey kid."

The kid automatically opened his eyes to look at the owner of the new voice, forgetting momentarily what a terrible idea this was.

Havok didn't even have a chance to gasp before the red light was back and cutting straight through him. He braced for pain on instinct, having seen for himself exactly what the beam of light could do.

But nothing happened.

There was no pain. No burning. Just an odd, harsh skip to his heart that felt almost reminiscent of the time Beast had had to shoot Havok up with epinephrine when a mission had gone spectacularly wrong. His headache vanished in an instant, the exhaustion going with it. And he was miraculously still alive. Weird.

The kid slammed his eyes shut in the same second that he had opened them, turning his head violently away as new tears spilled free. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I—"

"Hey, hey kid, it's okay," Havok tried to stop the boy's rambled, guilt-ridden apologies, placing a hand on his shoulder to prove that he was alright. "You didn't hurt me, okay?"

Tentatively, the kid turned his face back, eyes closed this time. "I didn't… How… Who are you?"

"I'm a friend, and I'm here to help you," Havok replied, squeezing the bony shoulder lightly in reassurance. The kid didn't seem to mind the contact, so Havok kept his hand there so the kid knew that he wasn't going anywhere. "How about we get you out of here? Sound good?"

The kid nodded, then froze. His eyes were so tightly shut that it looked painful, the muscles around them twitching under the strain. "The mask. You have to find the mask. It stops me, please, the mask—"

"Okay, okay, I'll find it," Havok said placatingly, patting the kid's shoulder before moving away to look around the lab. It was fairly obvious what the kid was talking about. A thick black blindfold lay abandoned on a surgical table beside the gurney, almost staring at Havok ominously. He picked it up, feeling the weight of it with a sick sense of dread. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, it stops me," the kid nodded, his face red with tears and the pressure of keeping his eyes closed. His chest was heaving with barely suppressed panic. "Please, it helps. It's the only thing that stops me."

Havok felt awful as he placed the mask over the kid's eyes, the thick band covering from his hairline to his nose. Reluctantly, he fastened the straps at the back, the metal of the buckles clanking like torture devices. But as soon at the mask was in place, the kid calmed down significantly, almost sighing in relief.

"I'm gonna untie you now, alright?" Havok said as he reached for the straps. They pinned the kid down across his shoulders, wrists, waist and ankles, leaving behind livid ligature marks on pale skin as Havok tugged them loose. "Do you think you can walk?"

The kid nodded, allowing Havok to help him upright and set him gently on the floor, before promptly crying out and nearly collapsing.

"What? What is it?" Havok asked, instinctively holding the kid up under the arms to keep him from dropping.

"Sorry, I forgot my leg," the kid murmured sheepishly. He gestured at his calf and the jagged hole cut through the jumpsuit he was wearing. With the darkness of the fabric it was hard make out the blood, but if it was causing enough pain to stop the kid from walking on it then it was probably a pretty deep cut. "I tried to kick one of them. They didn't like that."

Havok scowled at the doctor's remains and the unconscious guards just beyond, before burying his anger so that he could be calm for the kid. "Do you mind if I carry you? We need to get out of here."

It was frightening just how light the kid was as Havok lifted him up and held him against his side, as was the pure trust. Clearly the kid had been through hell, but he threw his arms around Havok's neck and clung on tight. They didn't even know each other's names, but apparently there was some instinct telling the kid that Havok was safe.

Presumably, none of the other labs were occupied given that no one had reacted to the light show earlier (unless mutant kids losing control under test conditions was considered normal there, which was a terrifying thought) but Havok gave them all a cursory check anyway. There was no way he was leaving any kid behind in this place.

With his part of the mission complete, Havok headed back the way he had come. He moved quickly but carefully, knowing the missing guards would most likely have been noticed by then. There were only three corridors and a stairway to go between them and the Blackbird, when a familiar scream cut through the silence.

The kid covered his ears, burying his face against Havok's shoulder. "What was that?!"

"A friend," Havok replied shortly, doubling his pace. He had to get the kid to safety and then he'd go and find Banshee and make sure that he was alright. Something bad must have happened for him to give up the stealth advantage, Havok just hoped that he wasn't too late. Maybe if Beast was done in the databank he would get there quicker.

A second scream sounded, closer than the first, which at least confirmed that Banshee was still alive and moving towards the Blackbird. With the door to the stairwell up to the roof in sight, Havok almost breathed a sigh of relief.

But then all those guards that Beast was so worried about… well, maybe he was right after all.

Havok skidded to a stop and flung himself sideways into an alcove as twenty or so guards opened fire. Bullets pitted the plaster all around them, raining them with shards as the thunderous onslaught continued. The kid kept his hands over his ears, muffling a cry of fear in the fabric of Havok's uniform. Blind and now deafened, he didn't have a clue what was happening. No wonder he was terrified.

Havok waited for the pause as the guards would have to reload, trying to think through his options. First thing, he couldn't fight with the kid in his arms – even if the guards didn't shoot him, Havok's power would take him out, and that was not an option. So he would have to ditch the kid. The alcove seemed safe enough for the time being. As long as no one got past Havoc he was relatively well covered.

And then what? Tempering his power took time and concentration – two things he was pretty low on at the moment. If he went out there full force, he would kill someone.

If he didn't, they would kill them.

 _It wouldn't be the first time I've killed, now would it?_

Taking a deep breath, Havoc dropped to a crouch and tried to peel the kid's grip from around his neck, but he just clung on tighter. "Kid, come on, you gotta let go," Havok grunted. He's already missed the first pause to reload and now the guards were closer. He had to move soon or there was no point. "You'll be safe here, okay? I'll be right back, I promise."

The kid reluctantly did as he was told, turning to look up at Havoc. The mask was sightless, but the gaze piercing regardless, and Havoc felt as if the kid was looking right through him.

"I'll be right back."

The pause came with a heavy silence, and Havoc boldly stepped out of the alcove. His power came to him freely, forming wide rings of energy all around him and centring on the chest plate Beast had invented. He tried to aim non-fatally, thanking Beast for the control he now had as he targeted gun hands and legs. He tried not to breathe in the smell of burnt flesh or listen to the sizzle of heated skin. Tried very hard not to look when he accidentally severed a guard's hand from his arm.

He didn't have time to take them all down. (He would have done if he had just blasted freely, but he tried not to think of what that massacre would have look like). Guards recovered and took aim quickly, and out in the open, Havok didn't stand a chance. One bullet skimmed his left side, causing him to grunt in pain; but it was the second bullet to his right shoulder that really messed him. The impact made him stumble, throwing his aim skyward and taking out part of the roof. He had maybe a second to hope that he hadn't hit the Blackbird before back-up arrived.

"Havok!"

Without hesitation, Havok dropped and rolled, hands coming up to cover his ears just as Banshee let loose a scream that probably would have deafened him for life if he had stayed in the line of fire. Several of the guards dropped instantly, the others clutching their heads in pain and confusion, but all Havok felt was a killer headache and some ringing in his ears.

"You alright?" Havok heard distantly, blinking as he looked up. Banshee was standing at the end of the corridor, clearly prepared to scream again if need be. Behind him, a little girl with pink hair and pink skin peaked around the corner to see what was happening. Banshee must have found her in the holding cells.

Havok barely had time to nod before the still conscious guards recovered, but a roar and a blur of blue fur told him that Beast had arrived and could handle it. Which is when Havok remembered that he had been shot, _twice_ , and the pain abruptly made itself known.

Getting shot _sucked_.

"We've got to go," Banshee said, gesturing behind him at the girl. She hurried forward and grabbed Banshee's hand, followed closely by another child, this one even younger and covered in fur. Havok struggled back to his feet, using the wall as support. Beast was just finishing off the last guard, though if the thundering sound approaching was anything to go on, there was soon going to be more.

Havok staggered over to the alcove where he had hidden the kid, but the shiny new holes in his body prevented him from being able to crouch down and pick him up. Remembering the kid's leg, he called Banshee over. "Can you give me a hand?"

"Sure," Banshee grinned, but then looked uncertainly at the black mask covering the kid's face. He threw Havoc a questioning look.

"I'll explain later, we've got to go," was all he said. The kid seemed to glare apprehensively in Banshee's direction, sensing that a stranger was about to pick him up and not liking it. "Hey, kid. This is a friend of mine. He's gonna help you out of here, alright?"

The kid frowned, clearly not happy about anyone but Havoc coming near him, but he allowed Banshee to lift him, staring unseeingly in Havoc's direction the entire time. The other two kids didn't seem so apprehensive; the pair of them staring at Beast in wonder. He was probably the first adult mutant they had ever seen that looked as different as they did, which seemed to console them somewhat. They followed Beast up the stairs and into the Blackbird (that Havoc had thankfully _not_ hit) just as the facility's reinforcements arrived.

Havoc was almost too tired to realise that they were flying as the Blackbird took to the sky and vanished before the guards could think to open fire. If it wasn't for the soft rumble of the engine and the slight pressure from the high speeds of the plane, he probably would have passed out as soon as his back hit the seat.

"Are we flying?"

Havok blinked his eyes open and glanced down at the seat next to him. Apparently Banshee had figured that the kid liked Havoc and so had strapped him in on his side of the plane instead of the opposite side with the two girls. "Yeah, kid. We're flying."

The kid looked distinctly unhappy. "I don't like flying."

"Yeah, well," Havoc sighed, shifting uncomfortably. The harness came right across his injured shoulder, but there was no way in hell he was undoing it. "It's the quickest way to get where we're going."

Banshee looked up from where he was checking the gash on the kid's leg, nodding at Havoc's injuries "Are you alright?"

Havok waved him off. He was pretty sure that the bullet wound in his side was just a graze. It burned a little when he took too deep a breath but it didn't seem to be bleeding too much. His shoulder was probably worse, but he didn't want Banshee to insist on releasing the harness so he could get a look at it. Beast could yell at him later, but for the twenty minute flight home, Havoc figured he was mostly fine.

"Where _are_ we going?" the girl with the pink hair asked. Her face was hard to read, almost blank really, but her tone was slightly petulant. Grateful for the rescue, but still uncertain of her saviours. Havok could understand that.

It was Banshee who answered, thankfully. Havok was becoming a little hazy around the edges as the adrenaline wore off. Blood loss probably wasn't helping his attention span either. "Somewhere safe, Clarice," Banshee smiled. "Don't worry."

Banshee shot another worried look at Havoc, not buying his assurance of general health, but moving on to look after the other kids anyway. Clarice, as Banshee had called the pink haired girl, actually smiled a little when Banshee cracked a joke to distract from the cut that he was disinfecting on her arm.

Havok's eyes were just slipping closed when it occurred to him that he still didn't know the kid's name. He looked down again to find him hugging his knees tightly, the black mask that covered his eyes pressed against them. "What's your name anyway, kid?"

The kid just rocked gently. It appeared that he liked flying just as much as Havok did. "I'm Alex."

"Scott."


	2. Chapter 2

When Alex woke up it was to find Hank staring down at him disapprovingly.

"Well that's not terrifying at all," Alex mumbled, wincing a little. His wounded side felt tight under the compression of bandages and his shoulder was thrumming painfully, warning him that movement was probably not a good idea. Judging by the glaring from Hank and the new IV that he had taped into the crook of his arm, he figured that maybe his injuries had been slightly more severe than he had optimistically hoped. The fact that he couldn't remember half the flight home or how he had even made it to the infirmary pretty much cemented that as fact.

"You lost a lot of blood," Hank commented, still leaning into Alex's personal space. "And you will need to wear a sling for at least six weeks. Hopefully your shoulder isn't permanently damaged, but hey, I'm not actually an MD, so who knows?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Reassuring. I would have thought you'd have had enough practice with this whole bedside manner thing by now."

"As much as you seem to enjoy making me stitch you back together, I would appreciate it if you would not get shot again for a while," Hank said drily. "It's becoming quite suspicious why a school would need so many drugs, so unless you would like me to operate without painkillers or anaesthesia…"

"I get it, I get it," Alex waved at Hank with his good hand. Against Hank's advice and his body's loud protests, Alex pushed himself up to sitting and swung his legs off the side of the gurney. With a put upon sigh, Hank removed the IV before Alex had a chance to accidentally pull it out. "So, how did we do? Everyone okay?"

"Mission success," Hank answered, rolling his chair away so that he ended up beside desk and able to look over the many documents splayed across it. "Minimal injuries, aside from you, obviously, and three mutants rescued. I've been looking through Trask's research, and while its mostly more of the same that we found before, I think there could be something here to explain what he's after."

Hank sighed heavily, sifting through the papers idly. "From a scientist's point of view, it's fascinating," he admitted begrudgingly. "For an actual human being with feelings and some semblance of morality, the whole thing is sick and twisted."

Alex nodded. "They're getting younger too. They were teenagers we pulled out of the first two facilities, how old were those kids? Eight? Nine at the most?" Alex kicked the gurney in frustration. "Do we know what they were doing to them?"

"Testing capabilities and endurance mostly," Hank said. "Finding out their limitations and then pushing them past them. For what purpose beyond sadism, I have no idea."

Alec shook his head, disgusted beyond words. They were just children, how could anyone justify experimenting on them like that? What kind of messed up human being did you have to be to think that it was okay? Necessary, even? The whole thing made him feel sick. "At least they're safe now," Alex grunted. "They settling in okay?"

"There have been some teething problems, like always, but yes, Clarice and Rahne seem to be doing well," Hank replied, before grimacing. "Scott, on the other hand…"

 _Take care of Scott, Alex. You're a big brother now_

Alex flinched at the false memory, the words actually physically painful as they cut through his mind. He remembered being on the Blackbird now, asking the kid his name. The way that he had frozen as ' _Scott'_ seemed to echo around the plane. It was stupid, he knew. Scott wasn't exactly a rare name. The chances of the kid being _his_ Scott were zero.

His Scott didn't exist.

"Alex?" Hank called, the concern in his tone telling Alex that it wasn't the first time that he had tried to get his attention. "Perhaps I should just show you. You think you can manage a short walk?"

Alex got the distinct impression that he had missed the main part of the conversation, but he nodded anyway. Hank kept a hand on his elbow as he helped Alex down from the gurney and directed them to the other end of the infirmary. It was quieter that end, away from Hank's desk and the unofficial operating table that Alex had woken up on. A curtain was drawn round one of the beds, and Hank pulled it back.

And there was Scott. He was asleep, seemingly peacefully, though his brow was crinkled slightly in a frown. The awful black mask had been replaced with a soft cotton blindfold, though that didn't really seem all that much better. The jumpsuit was gone too, changed out for pyjamas with the school's crest on the shirt. Alex's eyes caught on the IV in his arm. "You sedated him?"

"It was for the best," Hank answered ruefully. "When you stopped talking to him on the plane he began to panic and from there it just got worse. We didn't realise why he was wearing that blindfold, and when Sean tried to remove it he started screaming."

"He shoots lasers out of his eyes," Alex supplied helpfully.

"Yes, we found that out from his file," Hank nodded. "Trouble is we didn't know that at the time and you passed out without telling us. He seemed to believe that we had hurt you in some way, and no matter how much Sean tried to tell him that you were fine, he wouldn't believe us. And without being able to see for himself for obvious reasons… Your being shot was very inconvenient."

Alex managed a small smile, though guilt dragged him back down quickly enough. "Why was he so worried about me?"

"You were the only one of us he knew and trusted," Hank explained with a shrug. "And having apparently just lost you so soon after, he didn't seem willing to accept either Sean or me. Even the professor had trouble getting through. We felt it best to keep him calm until you woke up."

The headache that had taken residence in Alex's brain since the moment that Hank had first mentioned Scott was mixing poorly with the post-surgery exhaustion and residual blood loss. It was severe enough to have Alex wavering on his feet, and Hank's grip got tighter on his elbow. Within seconds he had a chair pulled up and Alex pushed into it, right by Scott's bed. "I'll ease back on the sedative. It's been less than a day so it should only take a few hours for him to wake up," Hank mumbled as he fiddled with the IV. "You just stay right there and don't pull your stitches."

Alex was too tired and in too much pain to argue, but he did attempt an unhappy scowl at being told what to do. His shoulder was hurting pretty bad, pulsing in time with the tension headache, and he still felt a little dopey from the leftover buzz of painkillers in his system. And now with the added pressure of Scott's trust in him… Alex felt too heavy to move.

"Call me if you need me."

"Wait, Hank," Alex called before Hank could disappear, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "What about his eyes, his power? Is there anything we can do to help him?"

Hank frowned. "There is a theory that I've been thinking on, but I'll need your help to test it. Your files are quite similar."

Alex hummed tiredly as Hank hesitated at the curtain. "Alex, your uniform was burned, right above the chest plate, but it didn't look like damage from your power…"

"His power doesn't work on me."

Hank's eyes widened slightly, then quickly turned thoughtful. With a whisk of the curtain, Alex was left alone and watching over Scott, the feeling of responsibility that he had almost forgotten heavy on his heart as the headache only worsened.

 _Take care of Scott, Alex. You're a big brother now_.

* * *

True to Hank's prediction, Scott woke up a few hours later. Alex was dozing lightly in the chair, his good arm wrapped around the sling and his feet propped up on the edge of the bed. If it wasn't for the sharp inhale of breath, Alex wouldn't have even noticed that Scott was awake. He didn't move, just tensed as if hoping that no one had noticed his return to consciousness.

For a moment, Alex didn't know what he was supposed to do. It was like being back in that lab, watching a sobbing child fight for control and having no idea how to provide comfort. But some long buried instinct pushed to the surface, tempering Alex's tone into something reassuring and protective.

"Hey kid."

Scott flinched as if surprised by the sudden sound, and then turned to face Alex's direction. "Alex?"

"Yeah kid, it's me," Alex replied. He tried to keep the smile in his voice, but inwardly he was terrified. He still didn't understand why Scott even trusted him. Relying on Alex was dangerous, he knew. He let people down, failed constantly. He was trusted with the most important person in the world once, but that hadn't worked out so well for his little brother.

Alex tamped down on that thought as his headache spiked. _His Scott didn't exist._

"Uh, sorry I scared you, on the plane," Alex stumbled over his words as he sat up, putting his feet back on the floor. "I didn't mean to check out on you like that."

Scott gave him a sad smile. "It's okay, I knew you were hurt. I'm just sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you."

Alex tilted his head. "Protect me?"

"They bought us back, didn't they?" Scott vaguely gestured around them. "I knew escaping was too good to be true."

And Alex realised exactly where Scott thought he was. The gurney, the starched sheets. The feel of the IV in his arm and that chemical smell in the air. Scott couldn't see that this wasn't the lab that he was found in; and all his other senses were confirming that he was somewhere clinical. That coupled with Alex's sudden silence on the plane, he must have thought that they were caught and dragged back.

Scott didn't know that his nightmare was over.

"Kid, you're not there anymore," Alex tried to explain.

"But the smell…" Scott shook his head, his voice sounding rough as if he were on the edge of tears. "I know what you're trying to do, Alex. I've tried it before. Pretending you're somewhere else doesn't work. Don't try to make this better. You can't."

Alex leaned forward, ignoring the pain in his side and the pounding in his head as he grabbed Scott's hand. Scott gave a gasp as if surprised that Alex would be able to touch him. He probably thought that Alex was on the gurney next to him waiting to be taken for the next experiment. Alex shuddered at the thought. "I promise you, Scott. We got you out. This place, it's a school for people like us," he paused, and then amended. "Well, this is an infirmary in a school for people like us. I was hurt so they bought us here, but we can leave whenever we want."

Scott still shook his head, though his grip on Alex's hand was almost tight enough to hurt.

"How about I prove it to you?" Alex suggested. He gave Scott's hand a tug. "Sit up."

Hesitantly, Scott did just that. When he realised that he could, he patted the bed around him with his free hand, pulling back the sheets and swinging his legs over the edge. His mouth opened in an 'o' of surprise.

"I just need to unhook your IV, can you let go for a minute?" Alex squeezed Scott's hand and then tried to let go, but Scott was having none of it. He was afraid that if he let go, Alex would disappear and his whole illusion of freedom would be broken. So Alex moved so that the hand holding Scott's was near his uninjured shoulder, allowing the kid to grip his shirt instead. A few seconds later Alex had the IV removed and a slightly shaky nine-year-old holding onto him for dear life.

"Alright then." Alex grinned. "Think your leg's up for some walking?"

Getting Scott on to his feet and steady wasn't easy, and when he accidentally grabbed Alex's sling for support Alex had to bite his tongue to hold in a hiss of pain, but soon they were moving. Scott only had a slight limp that he managed to negate by holding Alex's hand, the pair of them making it from one end of the infirmary to the other without incident.

"Hello Scott," Hank said brightly when he saw them approach. Scott instantly froze like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi.

"That's Hank," Alex introduced, nudging Scott forward a step. "He's a friend."

Scott still looked apprehensive, but he seemed to take Alex's word for it. He nodded vaguely in Hank's direction, but stuck close to Alex's side. It reminded Alex of something, some old hazy memory lurking in the back of his mind. But trying to grasp it just made his skull feel like it was splitting in two. Hank understood Scott's apprehension and made no move to get closer. "Where are you two going?"

"Somewhere that doesn't smell like a lab," Alex answered bluntly.

Hank grimaced. "Ah, yes. I hadn't thought of that. I would say take him outside, but I don't think you should be going that far just yet. How about the library?"

Scott perked up a little at that, looking up at Alex as expectantly as one could with most of their face covered. Another familiar pang caught Alex in the chest, but by now the constant headache was becoming unbearable. He forced a smile. "Library it is then."

The moment that the door to the infirmary closed behind them, Scott seemed happier. The old mansion had a smell to it that he probably hadn't some across before; somewhere between a museum's mustiness and the warmth of a home. The air was different too. With the windows open due to the heat of the summer there was a breeze far different from the air filtration system of a lab. With bare feet on the carpet, Scott willingly followed Alex down the corridor.

"The door's right in front of you, the handle about head height and slightly to the left," Alex described. With Scott still clinging to his only working hand he couldn't open the door himself, and besides, Scott looked reassured by the feel of the wood instead of metal.

Thankfully, the library was empty. Alex didn't know what time it was but hopefully the twenty or so kids that Charles had managed to enrol in the school were busy elsewhere. He didn't know how well Scott would react to a crowd just yet. Besides, Alex winced in the brightness, quiet was good right then.

The short walk had left Alex feeling exhausted, reminding him that he had had a fairly serious surgery on his shoulder not all that long ago. If it weren't for Scott needing him, he imagined Hank would have had him on bedrest for days. He walked Scott into the centre of the room, and then lowered himself carefully into an armchair with a sigh. Scott sensed him sit down and frowned in concern. "I'm fine, don't worry."

Scott still held his free hand, but turned as if he could see around them. After a few moments, he chewed his bottom lip. "Can I… can I look around?"

Alex knew that it was just a figure of speech, but he figured that it meant that Scott hadn't always been blinded by his power. Either way he nodded tiredly. "Sure, go ahead."

Scott almost let go, but then panicked and gripped tighter. "Can you keep talking?"

"Yeah, okay," Alex agreed, trying not to sound as tired as he felt. "So. Behind you is a coffee table, about two steps, so watch out for that. If you turn to your left and keep walking, you'll reach a bookcase."

Taking a deep breath, Scott turned to his left, and let go of Alex's hand.

"The books are super old. I'm not much of a reader, but knowing the professor, most of them are probably in Latin anyway – two more steps, be careful – do you like books?"

Scott reached the bookcase, both hands tracing the spines of the books in awe. "I used to be, before, you know," he said quietly, confirming Alex's theory on his blindness. "There weren't many books at the orphanage, but the ones they had I read a few times."

"Orphanage?" Alex asked.

"Yeah," Scott pulled a book from the shelf and showed the cover to Alex. "What's this one called?"

"'A Herbalists Guide to the Seasons'" Alex read, squinting a little at the distance. "Not your usual reading material, that must be like a textbook section. Turn a little to your right and walk forwards, there's another bookshelf."

Scott put the book back and followed Alex's directions. "I don't remember my parents, but I was told they died when I was really little. It's probably for the best. They'd hate me now anyway."

"Three steps," Alex warned. Scott instantly slowed and raised a hand before him so he didn't walk face-first into a shelf. Alex searched for something reassuring to say that wouldn't sound like an empty platitude. How was he supposed to respond to that? "I don't think they could hate you for something that wasn't your fault."

Scott ran a finger along the shelf. "What I can do is dangerous. I've… I've hurt people. Who could be proud of that?"

"What I can do is dangerous too," Alex admitted after a moment. And he had hurt a _lot_ of people. Killed some too. Failed others more often than not. "I've never wondered what my parents would think of me. I guess I just hope that they'd see that I was trying and maybe be proud of that instead."

Scott nodded. "Your parents are gone too?"

"Yeah."

"How about this one?" Scott asked, a second book in his hands and pointed in Alex's direction.

"'The Lord of the Rings', much better," Alex smiled. "I think I read it at school once. It's about elves and dwarves and hobbits."

Scott grinned, opening the book in his hands and flipping the pages. He then tucked the book under his arm and took two steps forward. "Can you read it to me?"

"Sure, why not? Might take a while though," Alex said. "It's a long book."

"I think I'll be staying a while. Might as well have something to do."

Some careful directions later and a little bit of shifting around, Scott was settled against Alex's side, wary of the injury that he had been warned to be careful of. Alex's good arm wrapped around his shoulders to hold the book in place, and then he began to read.


	3. Chapter 3

"So snazzy glasses are gonna stop the kid blasting things with his eyes?"

Alex ignored the glare that Hank shot his way as he swung around on his chair. The pair of them were in the Infirmary, which was currently doubling as an extension of Hank's lab/office. Papers covered in illegible doctor scrawl covered every surface, surrounding the table that had been set up where the operating gurney usually was. On the centre of the table was some doohickey Alex couldn't hope to identify, two panes of red glass held up like overlarge glasses.

"It's a theory," Hank replied. "The properties of ruby quartz should work to refract the optic blasts. It may even be possible to adjust the lenses so that certain volumes of energy can pass through—"

Hank looked up from his notes to see the distant expression on Alex's face. He sighed heavily.

"Yes, Alex. Snazzy glasses will stop Scott blasting things," he agreed with a huff. "Although I would prefer to test that theory before raising his hopes, hence why I called you down here."

Hank stood and adjusted the array on the table as he explained. "Your powers are incredibly similar. You both absorb energy sources; heat, radiation, that sort of thing, and use that as fuel for your plasma blasts. The only difference between the two of you that I can discern is the obvious; you expel from your body, Scott from his eyes."

Alex shifted a little in discomfort, trying not to focus too much on just how similar the two of them were. It just made his head hurt even more than what was now the near-constant headache that thumped behind his eyes. The name thing was a weird enough coincidence as it was, who knew what having essentially the same powers could mean. "But I can turn it on and off," he pointed out. "Why can't he?"

Hank scratched the fur around his jaw. "I think he may have been able to, once."

"You found something in his file?" Alex asked.

"Personal details and history are scarce; he was only identified by a number for the year that his file dates back to," Hank said. Alex shuddered as the realisation that Scott had been in that place for so long sunk in. Hank pushed away from the table and picked up some papers from his desk, handing them over to Alex. "It's the same with Rahne's and Clarice's, however there's something odd about Scott's."

"Define odd." Alex flicked through the papers with his good hand, not understanding most of the words, though his heart stuttered a moment when he caught sight of the age and date of birth on Scott's file. A coincidence.

Another one.

"On all of the paperwork there are two sets of handwriting; both of which detail the same things. Standard tests and procedures; stats and results," Hank indicated the two different penmanship's, and then flipped one of the sheets that Alex was holding over. "But on Scott's, there's a third. Every time this third doctor writes a note on a file, at least two weeks' worth of data vanishes."

"Someone else had an interest in the kid beyond what Trask was after," Alex surmised. "But why does that make you think that he had control?"

Hank took the papers back. "Because none of the early notes mention anything about the mask that they had him wear. Not until this third doctor shows up three months in. After that, advisory notes are attached warning the first two doctors to use the blindfold."

"This third bastard messed the kid up," Alex winced. "Permanently?"

Hank shrugged. "I don't know. If it was psychological trauma perhaps Charles can help him through it and eventually Scott may regain control. If it's physical… well. He's had enough doctors poking around him to last a lifetime. I'd be inclined to leave him be for now and rely on the ruby quartz."

"Which may or may not work."

Hank side-eyed Alex. "I think that it will. I just need you to test it."

"Because our powers are similar."

Which was weird, and got weirder the more that Alex allowed himself to think about it. Everything about Scott was weird to be honest. His powers. His name. Now his birthday. The way that he trusted Alex so completely and yet still struggled to accept the others even a week after being rescued and reassured that they were friendly too.

And then there was Alex's reaction to him. Alex was not a big fan of people, and was definitely not a fan of being touched; but the constant contact that Scott sought from him didn't bother him. It was like there was some instinct telling him to look out for the kid, protect him—

 _Take care of Scott, Alex. You're a big brother now._

Alex shook his head violently, reminding himself forcefully that he didn't have a brother. His Scott didn't exist, so there was no one to compare this Scott to. He didn't understand _why_ that was such a hard concept for his brain to hold onto. He was _not_ an older brother, no matter what the excruciating voice in his head insisted. Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing through the flare of pain that came whenever he heard it.

Hank to looked at him in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Alex faked a smile, hoping his expression didn't betray the war inside his head. He nodded pointedly at the set-up on the table. "So what did you want me to do?"

* * *

Alex grinned as Scott stood there staring at the world around him, mouth wide open in awe. The new glasses that Hank had made for him looked a bit dorky and far too big for the kid's face, but Alex wasn't mean enough to tell him that. Not when Scott was now able to see for the first time in nearly a year.

"So, what do you think?" Hank asked, unable to completely hide the nervousness in his voice.

Scott turned and looked at him, squinting a little through the lenses and twisting the hem of his shirt shyly. Three weeks at the mansion and Scott was still a little hesitant around anyone other than Alex, but he had made good progress. "Hank, right?" he asked. "Alex told me you were blue, but everything looks red to me."

Alex watched Scott interact with Hank with something almost like pride bringing a smile to his lips. It quickly turned into a wince though as the stupid headache reminded him that it was there; practically a constant companion to him these days. He pressed his fingers to his temple automatically. He knew that it didn't do a damn thing to alleviate the pain, but he couldn't seem to be able to stop the unconscious action.

When he blinked his eyes back open, he found Charles looking at him with clear concern. Alex forced his hand back down to rest against his sling in the approximation of crossing his arms, but the look didn't waver. Alex tried to bury his annoyance. He was _fine._ He could handle the headaches on his own, just like he had always been able to handle everything else. He didn't need anyone worrying about him.

He just hoped that the telepath hadn't caught on to his nightmares too.

"I'm afraid that there's nothing I can do about the colour blindness at the moment," Hank admitted ruefully, as if upset that giving Scott his sight back wasn't enough.

"That's okay," Scott smiled. He looked briefly to Alex for reassurance, and then offered a hand to shake. "It's nice to meet you."

Hank inclined his head. "And you too, Scott." He gestured to the other side of the library at the professor, who reintroduced himself with a welcoming nod, and then pointed to Sean who was leaning against a bookshelf next to Alex.

"The friend that screams?" Scott confirmed, once again looking to Alex.

Sean rolled his eyes. "Yep, that's me."

Scott accepted a hair ruffle from Sean with only a slightly wrinkled nose of discomfort and then immediately retreated to Alex's side. He tugged on the sleeve of Alex's shirt and pushed the heavy glasses back up his nose compulsively. "Can I go outside please? I know everything is gonna look weird in red, but at least it looks like something now."

"Sure thing, kiddo," Alex said. He watched Scott scarper from the library, and then looked up to find Hank, Sean and the professor all looking at him sceptically. "What?"

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Not one comment on the dorky glasses? That's some mighty self-control you've developed."

Alex scowled. "The kid just got his eyesight back, you really think I was going to say something mean? Jeez, Sean, I'm not heartless."

"You don't mean it as cruel," Charles allowed, holding a hand out placatingly when Alex turned his glare on him. "But you do have a tendency to say inappropriate things to lighten a situation. Take Hank's codename for example."

"What, Beast? But that's badass," Alex frowned, offended that his friends seemed to think that he was that much of a jackass. Sure, when he had first met them all he had been a little abrasive, but he'd just been in solitary confinement for six months, and the foster system before that. That was enough to make anyone a little rough round the edges. "It suits him."

Hank cleared his throat. "I think what they're trying to say, is that you seem different since Scott came along. You've gotten quite… attached."

Alex felt his hackles raise defensively. "Yeah, well, you be the only person a kid trusts and see what that does to you."

"We're not saying it's a bad thing," Sean put his hands up when Alex glared at him. "Just different."

The professor wheeled forwards, that damn look of concern back on his face. "Alex, you have done a brilliant job, being there for Scott, and I'm proud of you for stepping up like you have. But that is a lot of responsibility to take on at your age and—"

"And you don't think I can handle it," Alex finished. It stung that Charles didn't think that he was good enough to watch out for the kid, but Alex figured that he was right. It was always a bad idea to leave Alex responsible for anything; it guaranteed disaster for the poor soul left in his care. "I'm a bad influence anyway, right?"

"That's not…" Charles sighed, sounding frustrated and worried at the same time, but all Alex could hear was the disappointment. "I'm trying to think of what is best for _everyone._ With the X-Men and school, that is enough for anyone to take on, Alex. Perhaps now that Scott has his sight back it's time to step back a little. Take a break. Scott needs to learn to trust other people and make friends on his own. He needs to heal and move on too."

Alex nodded. "Sure, okay. Whatever."

With that, Alex left the library, trying not to think too hard on the sudden sense of loss that he felt. He knew that Scott wasn't going anywhere, and that Charles wasn't going to stop Alex from seeing him or anything drastic like that, but it still felt as if something fundamental had been taken away from him. He was just getting used to having Scott hanging around; like something he didn't even know was missing was suddenly back. And now it was gone again.

 _You're a big brother now_.

But Alex had never been a big brother, not really. The fact that Scott had attached himself to Alex much like he would imagine a younger sibling would, it didn't mean that Alex had magically become one. And now that Scott could see and didn't really need him anymore didn't mean that he was any less of a friend either. It shouldn't matter that much.

It shouldn't _hurt_ this much.

"Are you okay?" Sean asked, materialising seemingly from nowhere. He must have followed Alex outside but he couldn't say that he had noticed. Sean dropped next to Alex on the school's front steps. "We didn't mean it as a criticism you know."

"Yeah, I know," Alex shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever's best for the kid, right?"

"It's what's best for _both_ of you," Sean reiterated emphatically. He reached out and grasped Alex's arm lightly. "It's just that you look so tired lately and the professor figured that it might be the pressure that Scott's been putting on you, however unintentionally. He's worried about _you_ just as much as he's worried about Scott."

Alex huffed and gestured at the front lawn. Scott had managed to find Rahne and some of the other kids, the beginnings of what looked like a game of tag taking place. "Nothing to worry about now then. The kid's doing just fine on his own."

Sean sighed heavily as if Alex was totally missing the point, and then climbed to his feet. He had just reached the front door when he paused and turned back.

"Hey Alex, why don't you ever call him Scott?"

* * *

"Take care of Scott, Alex," his mother said firmly through the tears that she was barely holding back. "You're a big brother now, and that means you have to watch out for him."

Alex nodded. He must have heard his mom say that a thousand times since she and his dad had returned from the hospital years ago with a screaming, red-faced baby, but they had never had such _weight_ before. And there hadn't been flames all around them and the high-pitched whine of a failing engine trying to drown them out either.

He could hear his dad shouting from the cockpit, crying mayday on the radio with the desperation of someone who knew that help was too far away to do anything. Scott was whimpering on the seat beside him, clinging on to Alex's arm as their mother checked the straps on the parachute that she had thrown on his shoulders.

The air was thick with smoke and the oppressive heat of the flames that engulfed nearly half the small aircraft, but there something even heavier that settled hard on Alex's chest and made it difficult to breathe. He was terrified, yes. It made his whole body shake as violently as the plane around them, but that wasn't it. Scott looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I promise I'll look after him," Alex replied. His mother gave him a watery smile and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

"I know you will," she said, almost too quietly to be heard above the groaning of warped metal falling from the sky. "Because you're my brave little soldier."

She leaned back and called for their father, and then lifted Scott onto Alec's lap. He felt so small in Alex's arms; fragile and precious in a way that he hadn't really thought of before. As light as a two-year-old could be, but still just as heavy as the parachute on his back and his mother's words in his ears.

His dad was telling him what to do, but Alex had a hard time hearing him above the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. His ears had popped from the changing pressure of the dropping plane and the smoke was choking him with every breath. But when their parents hugged them tight for the last time, Alex heard their last words as clear as anything.

"We love you boys, so much. Stay together. Stay safe. Be happy."

And then Alex was falling, twisting and tumbling through the air with Scott screaming from where he was tied to his chest. The sky swapped with the ground over and over as the burning plane grew smaller above them. Alex scrabbled for the pull chord and yanked it hard

And suddenly it was silent.

The parachute opened and jolted Alex back as his descent was abruptly slowed, but all he cared about was the weight missing from his chest.

Scott was gone.

The breath stilled in Alex's throat as he stared down at the harness wrapped around him. There was no sign his little brother had ever been there. He was just gone. Vanished. Nothing but silence as Alex glided toward the earth.

The moment of shocked loss stretched for what felt like an infinity until the plane exploded above him. Flaming debris rained from the sky, tearing holes through the chute and striking Alex hard across the back and shoulder. Agony ripped through him—

And he woke up, gasping for breath and grasping anxiously for something to tether him. Sheets tangled around his legs as he fought to free himself from his bedcovers, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder and side. Clambering to his feet, Alex staggered to the window and threw it open, trying to draw as much fresh air into his oxygen starved lungs as possible.

It was just a nightmare.

Alex pressed his face against the cool glass of the window to try and alleviate that damn headache that still pounded behind his eyes. Pain stabbed through his brain as he tried to calm his breathing and racing heart. It was just another nightmare. A distant memory that couldn't hurt him anymore. He was safe at the school. He wasn't alone anymore. Just a nightmare.

He didn't know how long it took him to finally get himself back under control, but when he glanced at the clocked by his bed it read as quarter past two in the morning. There was no way that he was ever getting back to sleep now, so he resigned himself to another long night of insomnia. No wonder the others thought that he looked so tired. If only they knew that it wasn't really Scott that was keeping him awake.

Not that he could ever tell them. They would think he was crazy.

He knew what had really happened that day on the plane. The stupid painful dreams were just lies. Fantasies that a traumatised child had created following the loss of his parents. The reason that Scott was never with him when he pulled the chord on the chute was simple. Scott had _never_ existed. Only Alex had jumped from the plane. Alone. And alone is how he had stayed.

 _You're an older brother now_.

Alex cried out and pressed his free hand against his temple, the pain worsening by the second. Brokenly, he crawled back to his bed and curled up on his side. He was crying, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. It all just hurt so bad

 _Take care of Scott_

Scott didn't exist.

 _You're an older brother now._

No. He _wasn't._ And the voice needed to stop telling him that before his skull split open from the pressure building in his brain. Why wouldn't it go away? Ever since he had found Scott the pain and the nightmares had just been getting worse and worse, every night. He couldn't take much more.

Maybe he should tell someone?

No, they already thought that he was a heartless jackass that couldn't watch out for a scared kid. No need to tell them that he was cracking apart too. He had been okay when he was alone. Before Charles had found him and dragged him out of solitary. Before Hank and Sean had somehow become his friends. Before Scott. Alone was better.

He had always been alone.

Alex reached up to grab his pillow, intent on burying his tear-soaked face into it until it was finally morning, but his fingers caught on something. Carefully, he retrieved the crumpled photograph from its hiding place, studying it in the darkness. It was a picture of a blonde kid staring down in equal parts confusion and wonder at a tiny new born baby.

 _Take care of Scott, Alex. You're a big brother now, and that means you have to watch out for him._

Alex squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Scott didn't exist, he _knew_ that.

But then who was in the picture?


	4. Chapter 4

Alex walked into the library to find Scott already there. It was six o'clock in the evening, which meant that it was time to read the next chapter or two of _Lord of the Rings_ together before Scott had to go to bed for the eight o'clock curfew. He was curled up in the arm chair, the book propped open on his knees as he looked up sheepishly at Alex's arrival.

"I'm sorry, I might have already read some," he said apprehensively. "It was at a really good bit and I couldn't wait. Sorry, Alex."

Alex just shook his head fondly, ignoring the constant headache that had taken residence in his brain. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't so bad, that he could handle it. But sometimes, he had to admit, if only to himself, that it was taking a dangerous toll on him. He hadn't had a full night's sleep in nearly a month, his appetite was gone… and he knew that it was showing. He was struggling to focus for more than a few minutes at a time and his temper was on a hair trigger too.

He was making everyone worry. If he were honest, he would say that he was scaring himself too.

The Professor was letting him skip classes, (which was unheard of), and Hank and Sean were struggling to find a balance between giving Alex space and trying to get him to talk. Even Scott had backed right off from being the near-permanent attachment to Alex's side. Whether that was prompting from Charles or Scott's own intuition, Alex didn't know. But he was glad that these few hours every night hadn't changed.

It was a port in the storm of what was rapidly becoming Alex's unravelling life.

"Where did you get to?" he asked as he crossed the room. Scott automatically made room for him on the armchair, carefully climbing half in Alex's lap and leaning against his side. The bullet wound barely stung now, though the sling was still an accessory that Alex wasn't allowed to ditch yet. His shoulder still hurt, but it was nothing compared to the headache and as such easily ignored. "I might have to make you go back to the beginning of the chapter."

Scott grinned. "I don't mind, it really was a good bit. You see…"

Scott started rambling, describing in detail exactly what was going on with Legolas, leaving no need for Alex to even read the book at all. He just listened patiently, head resting against the back of the chair and his eyes feeling so damn heavy. He could have fallen asleep so easy right then and there, but he snapped his eyes back open with a jolt. He couldn't live through the nightmare again.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Alex blinked and looked down to find Scott watching him guiltily. Why the hell would the kid look guilty? "What? No, of course you didn't. Why would you think that?"

Scott chewed his lip. "It's just… it's just that you don't seem happy. Hank said that you're tired, so I tried to leave you alone but it didn't help so I talked to the Professor. He said that you felt a lot of re—respons—responsabitty? for me. He said he thought I might be reminding you of something from before. I'm sorry for hurting you."

"You're not hurting me," Alex said firmly. He felt rage at Charles flare up but he was too exhausted to hold onto it for long. What caught on his anxiety though was the fact that Charles already seemed to know about Alex's previous psychological break. He should have realised that – it was the CIA that had recruited him after all. They would have had the hospital records. The police statements. The psych exams.

No wonder Charles wanted him to stay away from Scott. He already knew that Alex was a nut job.

But what the hell was he doing telling a kid about it? Now Scott felt guilty for something that he had nothing to do with. Something he shouldn't have even been told about in the first place. A very small part of Alex realised that Charles was just trying to help Scott understand. That it was Alex's fault for scaring everyone in the first place. If only he had just gotten over it – ignored all of the coincidences and the nightmares and just faked normalcy better.

If only his head didn't hurt so much _all the damn time_.

"I'll go to bed now," Scott said quietly, closing the book and sliding gently down from the chair. "Night, Alex."

"Wait," Alex said, reaching out for Scott but stopping before he touched him. Scott paused, looking up at Alex hopefully, eyes wide and trusting. Exactly the same way that the Scott from the nightmares did. Alex swallowed, trying not flinch at the spike of pain that stabbed his brain at the comparison. "What's going on with me, it's _not_ your fault. I… You… It's just…"

Scott continued to stare as Alex stumbled over his words. How was he supposed to explain what was going on to a nine-year-old? He couldn't even bring himself to explain it to his friends. He couldn't explain it to _himself._

Alex sighed. "I'm just not feeling very well at the moment. But that's not because of you."

"You're sick?" Scott asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Alex nodded, and then smiled as reassuringly as he could. "But I'll get better soon, I promise."

At least, he hoped so. He could barely remember what it felt like to not be in pain all the time. Scott smiled, apparently satisfied with Alex's explanation and oblivious to his thoughts. He wandered back and gave Alex a hug, before leaning back and pushing his glasses back up his nose. "If you're sick then you're supposed to sleep. We can keep reading when you feel better."

 _Sleep._ Alex faked a smile and ruffled Scott's hair. _If only he could._

* * *

It was two o'clock in the morning a few days later. The manor was silent aside from the creaking of an old building adjusting in the warmth of the tail end of summer. And Alex Summers was losing his mind.

He couldn't remember the last time that he had slept for more than twenty minutes. His stomach complained with hunger but even the thought of food made him feel nauseous. And his head. _God damn_ his head. It couldn't even be classed as a headache anymore. He had never had experience with migraines before, but he figured that they must feel something like the splitting agony occupying his skull.

He had tried everything he could think of. He avoided bright lights, loud noises, people. He had worked out until he was so exhausted he thought he would drop. He had taken sleep aids – but all they did was lock him in the nightmares until he woke up screaming; the pain intensifying every time. And painkillers didn't touch the _'headache'_. Not even the stronger ones that he had stolen from the locked cupboard in the Infirmary.

He couldn't make it go away.

It was driving him crazy to the point where he couldn't even pretend to be okay anymore. His thoughts were so twisted up and incoherent from exhaustion that he didn't know what the hell was going on most of the time. He didn't remember coming down to the kitchen, or taking a seat on one of the stools beside the counter. All he knew was the coolness of the granite surface against his forehead, and the certainty that he had never had a younger brother.

It shouldn't be something that was up for debate, he knew. Either he did or he didn't. There shouldn't be this painful state of limbo where conflicting memories tried their hardest to drive him insane. He shouldn't look at the Scott that he had rescued from Trask's lab and see a two-year-old that never existed staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes. None of this should be happening.

He just wanted it to _stop._

"Alex?"

Hank's voice was hesitant and quiet, but still too damn loud. Alex felt him come into the kitchen, but couldn't bring himself to lift his head off the counter. He didn't think he had the strength left to move anymore. Hank came to a stop in front of Alex, his shadow falling over him. "What are you doing up this time of night?"

Someone else shuffled into the room, probably Sean judging from jaw-cracking yawn that echoed around the kitchen. He dropped into the seat next to Alex with a heavy grunt. "I'm going to need serious amounts of coffee if you expect me to actually be helpful right now," the new arrival grumbled. Definitely Sean.

Hank huffed something at Sean, followed quickly by the rumble of the coffee maker being brought into service. And then a clawed hand gently touched Alex's shoulder. "Alex?"

Oh, right. Hank had asked a question.

"Couldn't sleep," Alex mumbled into the granite.

"That seems to be a reoccurring theme with you lately," Sean muttered. Hank must have glared at him, because Sean's voice turned defensive. "Hey, you're the one who woke me up. I warned you about pre-coffee Sean. Pre-coffee Sean is not tactful or sympathetic—"

"Pre-coffee Sean can shut up until he becomes post-coffee Sean," Hank interrupted. Alex felt his lips twitch up into a smile, though that was probably because he wasn't awake enough to realise that his friends were staging some sort of intervention. All he was aware of was the headache from hell and the mildly amusing background noise. And Scott. Who might or might not exist.

But that was painful to think about, So Alex focused on the counter he was slumped on.

"Alex," Hank prompted again. "Are… I… We're worried about you, Alex."

"You're acting super weird." Sean added.

"Thank you," Hank said sarcastically. Alex could imagine the look that he would have shot at Sean. It made him smile briefly again. "Look, um. Can you sit up? Look at me, please?"

Moving was literally the last thing that Alex ever wanted to do again, but the raw concern in Hank's voice; and Sean's too, under the brashness of sleep deprivation, made Alex reconsider. He didn't want anyone to worry about him. He just wanted to _sleep_. Maybe… maybe he _should_ trust his friends to help him with that.

Even if they would think he was crazy.

At this point, _Alex_ thought that he was crazy, so what was the difference? With more effort than he would have liked to admit, Alex pushed himself up with his free hand, blinking in the low light of the kitchen. He felt both Sean and Hank watching him.

"Damn." Sean said. "You look like shit."

Hank closed his eyes as if in prayer. "Sean. Coffee. Now."

"I'm fine," Alex mumbled automatically. He propped his elbow on the counter so he could lean his head on his hand. "Just tired."

"Why can't you sleep? Is it the nightmares?" Hank asked. Alex looked at him confusion, wondering how the hell Hank knew about them. Hank just shrugged. "Your room is across the hall from mine. I've heard you shout out a few times and… and cry after."

Alex flushed with embarrassment, his eyes dropping to the granite. "I-I wasn't—"

"Hey, I'm not judging you, Alex," Hank cut him off. "I just want to understand what's going on so that we can help you."

Sean nodded as he put down his already half-empty mug. "It's gotta be pretty bad to make a tough guy like you crack."

Alex hissed in a breath and looked away. Part of him knew that Sean didn't mean that like it sounded. Sean didn't know about Alex's breakdown six years ago. Unless Charles had felt the need to share his CIA file with them too. Bitterness drenched Alex's voice. "It's not like it would be the first time. I'm sure the professor told you all about it just like he told the kid."

"Woah, what?" Sean threw his hands up. "What are you talking about?"

"Like you don't know," Alex snapped. "They had me locked up in that mad house for three months. I'm sure the professor felt you should know your teammate was unstable."

"No Alex, Charles didn't tell us anything," Hank said calmly.

 _Oh_. The anger flooded out of Alex, replaced instantly with shame and fear. Well, if they by some miracle didn't think he was a basket case before, they sure as hell would now. He had outright told them he was a crazy person, dangerous enough to be locked up. He wouldn't blame them if they walked away. Any minute now they would realise and they would leave, and Alex would be alone again. So damn alone, with only pain for company.

"But so what, right?" Sean said brightly, the words hitting Alex like a slap to the face. He stared at Sean stupidly. "We all know the CIA found you in prison, brother, we already know you've had issues. What we're more worried about is what's currently wrong with you."

Alex swallowed. "N-nothing's wrong—I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Alex," Hank said forcefully. "Trauma doesn't just go away, and ignoring it doesn't make it disappear. Whatever happened to you then, and whatever is going on with you now, you need to face it. Maybe talking about it will help. Isn't it worth a try?"

Alex shook his head. No. Talking about it would _not_ help. It would just make the last people in his life look at him in fear and abandon him like everyone else had. They hadn't run yet but… it was just a matter of time. So what if they were still there, looking at him like they cared. So what.

So what if they _could_ help? Hank was right. Ignoring the problem hadn't made it go away – the voice had just got louder and the pain more unbearable. Something was seriously wrong with him. There was no hiding from that fact. He just wanted it all to go away. Maybe it was time that he trusted his friends, his brothers really, to help him with that.

"I… it's going to sound crazy," Alex said quietly. Apprehensively, he glanced up and looked both Hank and Sean in the eye. "I think… I think I might have really lost it this time."

Sean just smiled. "Try us."

"Okay," Alex held his breath and closed his eyes. He was shaking already. "Okay, um. Shit. I should probably start at the beginning, right? Cause that would make sense."

Hank nodded reassuringly. Sean moved on to his second cup of coffee.

"Right. So, my parents died when I was nine," Alex said in a rush. The pain was old, but it was still there, the nightmares having gouged old scars anew. "There, there was a plane crash – my dad was a pilot with the air force. I grew up on a couple of military bases, but that's not, uh. Yeah. He, my dad, he took us up one day, just like he had a hundred times before. Me, my parents and… and my little brother."

Pain throbbed behind his eyes making Alex wince harshly. Hank and Sean shared a look, but they didn't say anything, so Alex continued. "Anyway, something went wrong. Something blew up and the plane caught fire and we lost most of the chutes, but my mom managed to save one. She uh, she put it on me, and she told me to look after my little brother, and then my dad pushed us out the plane. It blew up when we were still too close to it, shredded the chute and I got hit with shrapnel. I don't remember getting to the ground."

Hank eyes were wide with shock as Alex rushed through the story, which at least confirmed that Charles hadn't actually told them anything. He felt bad for thinking that the professor would. He should have known better.

"When I woke up it was three weeks later, and I was pretty messed up," Alex said. "But I wanted to know where my brother was. I asked every nurse I saw and tried to escape a couple of times to find him. And then one day, a cop comes in with the shrink. They start talking about trauma and loss and coping mechanisms or whatever. They told me that I don't have a brother. That he never existed and that I just made him up."

Alex snorted bitterly "How the hell does someone just make up a little brother right? I didn't believe them. As soon as I could walk again, I got outta there and went back to our house on the base. But…" his voice drifted off. He stared at his shaking hand, and pressed it flat against the counter top to force it still. But all that did was show how bad the rest of him was shivering. Sean reached over and caught his wrist, squeezing it lightly.

"It was all _wrong_ ," Alex choked. He realised that he was close to tears and furiously blinked them away. "My little brother wasn't in any of the pictures on the walls. His toys were all gone. His nursery had been turned back into my dad's office. Like he never existed.

"But I did manage to find this." Tentatively, Alex pulled out the photograph that usually lived under his pillow and smoothed it down on the counter. The blonde kid and the new born baby stared up at them from the moment they had been forever frozen in. Hank turned the photo around so he could get a better look, glancing from it, to Alex's face and back again. Comparing the likeness like Alex had done so many times.

"It was the only proof that I had, and I swore to myself that I was going to find him," Alex murmured quietly. He looked away from the photo as the pain increased, sucking in a harsh breath. "Kept running away from every home they stuck me in, insisting that he was real. But they kept dragging me back until they got sick of 'allowing my fantasies'."

Alex shook his head. "They sent me to an asylum for three months after that. I… I don't remember any of it, but when I came out, I no longer believed that I had ever had a little brother."

Silence fell for a full minute as those words sunk in. The only sound was the cooling of the coffee maker and the slow drip of the faucet. Alex stared resolutely at the granite, waiting for the inevitable moment when his friends realised that he was beyond helping. Who could hear that story and think that he was sane? And he hadn't even gotten to the craziest part yet.

Sean picked up the photograph, scrutinising it closely. "You believe that you never had a little brother, right? So who do you think is in this picture?"

Alex shrugged. "I found it under the floorboards in my old room. I guess that it was the previous owners' or something that I just found when I was desperate for proof."

"Then why did you keep it?" Sean asked.

"I… I don't know," Alex admitted. It was one of the things that had always bugged him, even before the headaches and the nightmares had started. How many times had tried to tear it up or burn it? He had tried to get rid of the evidence of his past he had tried so hard to bury, but for some reason he just couldn't let it go. It was probably part of his psychosis. "I just couldn't throw it away, even though it wasn't real."

Hank cleared his throat. "This was about six or seven years ago, right? So what's brought it all back? What's made you start doubting again?"

"My little brother… if he existed…" Alex winced. "His name was Scott."

Hank raised his eyebrows, and Alex knew exactly what he was going to say. "You don't think… It's not exactly an uncommon name, Alex."

This was what he was afraid of. They could accept that he had made up a little brother; grief and trauma can make kids do all sorts of weird things. They could sympathise with that. But the fact that he was considering that Scott might just be that non-existent person… Jeez. Alex was probably projecting onto the first kid who had ever trusted him like that, drawing Scott into his messed-up fantasy world like the psycho he was. He was _dangerous_.

Alex gritted his teeth. "I _know_ that. Do you think I don't know that? It's just…"

He sighed heavily. "The age is right. Their birthdays match up. Our powers are the same. He looks like… I know it's not possible. I _know_ it isn't. That's all just coincidences or me making crap up or whatever. I'd sign myself into the nearest madhouse tomorrow if it was just that but… but it's _not_ just that."

Alex rubbed his face wearily and pressed his fingers to the ever-present pain in his temples. "Ever since he woke up I've had this headache. _Uh_ , that's sounds stupid," he scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There's this… voice in my head, my mother's voice, as clear as anything, telling me to look out for Scott, that I'm his big brother and that's what I'm supposed to do. I know it sounds crazy. Hell, I know I'm certifiably insane…"

Alex looked at his friends helplessly, letting the pain show in his eyes. "It just hurts _so_ _much_. And I can't make it stop."

"That's why you stole those painkillers," Hank said worriedly, and Alex suddenly realised what had prompted this 2am intervention. Of course Hank would have noticed the missing meds. He was probably scared that Alex was suicidal. Alex didn't know if the fact that the real reason was because he was crazy and suffering what felt like a brain aneurysm was better or worse.

Hank frowned disapprovingly. "That was some _strong_ stuff, Alex. With the way you burn through meds, getting the right dosage is… Damn it, if you had taken too much to counter your powers… do you realise just how dangerous and _stupid_ that was?"

Of course he had known. He just hadn't cared. "I just wanted to make it stop," he shrugged tiredly. "They didn't work anyway."

 _"Morphine_ didn't stop the pain in your head?" Hank questioned incredulously. He eyes narrowed as he studied Alex across the counter, his voice drifting off in thought. "That's… that's _weird_. Even considering your physiology, it should have at least temporarily offered some relief. That's… worryingly weird."

"So, you have two sets of memories," Sean surmised with a confused look, "and you don't know which one is real? No wonder you're going off the rails—"

"I _know_ which ones are real," Alex cut him off forcefully, not allowing himself to entertain any other explanation. Going crazy he could handle – he already had before – but the alternative… that the painful voice in his head might be telling the truth…? That couldn't be possible. "I just can't make the fake ones I made up go away."

"Are you sure they're the fake ones, Alex?" Hank asked, and Alex froze. _No_. He had been afraid that his friends would think he were losing it, but he hadn't thought that they would believe that Scott could be... He hadn't even considered it being possible. And it was far worse than them knowing he was crazy. "I'm not a psychologist, but making up a little brother doesn't sound like a coping mechanism to me. What if—"

"Don't," Alex hissed. "I do not have a little brother."

"But Alex—"

"If I do, then…" Alex drew in a sharp breath. "Then that means that I forgot about him and left him on his own for seven years when I promised my parents that I would look out for him. I _can't_ have a little brother. I _can't_ have done that."

Hank hesitated, a look of sympathy softening his eyes. Alex knew that if looked to his right, Sean would have the same expression. The constant pain had been distracting him from thinking too hard on that possibility, but now that the words were out there, fear and frustration were outweighed by the guilt lying heavy on his chest. If he really did have a little brother out there—

 _No._

Sean glanced at Hank, and then opened his mouth tentatively. "What if _Scott_ is your little brother?

Alex closed his eyes. That… that was even _worse_. "Then I allowed him to be taken by sadists and tortured for over a year."

"It wouldn't have been your fault—" Hank immediately argued.

 _"I do not have a little brother."_

The statement was so vehement that both Sean and Hank instinctively leaned back warily. He didn't realise that he had briefly glowed as his power slipped from his control. Alex was glad that they hadn't run from him, grateful beyond words that they actually believed his messed-up life story, but he couldn't let them think that. If it were true… if it were true, the guilt would kill him. He remembered his promise on the plane, his mother's pride in him. If that had really happened, if he had let them down so badly as to _forget_ his little brother… It _couldn't_ be true.

"Okay," Hank said calmly, reaching out slowly to Alex and grasping his wrist. "Okay Alex. Maybe, maybe Charles could help you. If you let him in your head, he might be able to erase the fake memories and stop the headaches. Would you let him try?"

The thought of letting a telepath into his head sent a burning pain from his skull the whole way down his spine. But Alex wanted this to be over. He _needed_ this to go away.

"Okay."


	5. Chapter 5

Sean struggled to keep Alex upright as he practically dragged his friend through the halls. From the moment that he and Hank had managed to get Alex to agree to let Charles help him, the pain in his head seemed to go from excruciating to _crippling._ He had practically collapsed as soon as the word had left his lips, and would have fallen from the stool if Sean hadn't been quick enough to catch him.

It had been terrifying, watching Alex drop like some puppeteer had just slashed his strings. Considering the conversation that they had just had, the things they had learned…

Something was seriously wrong with Alex. Not just some emotional trauma as they had feared (though Alex's deteriorating mental health was worrying enough on its' own) but something physically wrong. Some kind of brain damage.

Sean shivered at the thought, and adjusted his grip on Alex's waist.

Hank had told him to take Alex to his room while he went and got Charles. The original plan; as discussed when they had feared that Alex was depressed and seeking medicated help, was for them to take Alex to the Professor's office in the morning – forcefully, if necessary. But that had all changed as Alex had finally talked to them, and then proceeded to pass out.

How could they not have realised how bad it was? Sure, they had noticed that Alex wasn't sleeping or eating. Hank had told them about the nightmares and Charles had alluded to Alex having had a tough childhood. But they hadn't done anything. They had just assumed that Alex needed time and would come to them when he was ready. They were afraid that if they tried to force him to talk too soon, he would just retreat further away from them.

If Hank hadn't have realised that some of the strong meds were missing, they might not have even had the 2am conversation.

How much worse would Alex have let it get? Why hadn't he trusted them enough to talk to them?

But then again, knowing what he did now, Sean realised that Alex didn't even trust himself. How were they supposed to guess that he had two sets of conflicting memories? That the possibility of Scott being his non-existent long lost little brother was even an option on the table?

Sean had known _nothing_ about Alex. Just assumptions that he had made based on the one fact that he had. Alex had been in prison. He didn't even know what for, but it was serious enough that he had been tried as an adult at fifteen. He hadn't thought about what family Alex did or didn't have, where he came from, anything. Sean had just figured that Alex was a delinquent with an attitude problem, and that perhaps Scott's complete trust in him was making him re-evaluate his life choices.

They were friends, brothers in a way. Sean trusted Alex. He just didn't _know_ him.

Alex whimpered in pain, the sound so broken and uncharacteristic of the stoic kind-of-a-jerk Sean thought he knew that Sean almost dropped him.

"Almost there, buddy," Sean said as reassuringly as he could despite the panic creeping into his voice. "Don't worry. Hank's gonna get the professor and we'll get you fixed up in no time."

Alex whined a little louder in response, his knees buckling out from beneath him. They almost hit the deck, but Sean just managed to haul him back upright. Thankfully, as the oldest students at the school, they had been given rooms on a different wing to the younger kids. Sean didn't want to be explaining why he was dragging his nearly unconscious best friend around at nearly three in the morning. On the downside though, they had to climb an extra set of stairs, leaving Sean out of breath by the time that they finally reached their dorms.

"Sean?" Alex groaned, blinking in confusion. He stared up at Sean blankly as if he couldn't remember why they were there.

"It's alright," Sean smiled, though even he could tell it was forced. He opened Alex's door and managed to get them over to the bed, guiding Alex to sitting. Sean turned on the bedside light and had to swallow a gasp.

Alex had looked bad in the kitchen. Pale, shaking, eyes sunken in and bruised from lack of sleep. But in the five minute drag-shuffle from A to B, he looked so much worse. A nose bleed had started, the dark blood stark against white skin, and his face was contorted in pain. A few tears had escaped, but Sean wasn't about to say anything about it. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He had lost Alex's attention again, but Sean still felt bad as he darted from the room. He had every intention of going to the bathroom down the hall to get a wet cloth to clean up the blood, but he just needed a minute first. He was scared out of his mind, and until Hank came up with the professor, he was on his own. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help.

He hadn't expected this. When Hank had come to him and told him about the missing meds, it hadn't really registered just how serious it was. The fact that Alex had taken them was bad, Sean knew that and he wasn't trying to belittle it. He just hadn't believed that Alex of all people would do what Hank was suspecting.

It was _Alex_ , for crying out loud. The guy was as tough as rock. He was rough round the edges, with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. A jokester with a bit of a mean streak. But he had stepped up after Cuba, taking the lead in the field with a confidence that neither Sean nor Hank could find after that betrayal. Sean had always kind of seen him as unbreakable in a way. Even when he was injured, he was _fine_. When he had grown distant, Sean had assumed that that tough exterior would still be there.

He hadn't realised just how jarring it would be to see what was broken beneath.

"Get a hold of yourself, Cassidy," Sean hissed under his breath. He pushed away from the wall and got the cloth before returning to Alex's room. He had had his moment, now it was time for him to step up too.

When he walked back in, he found Alex basically folded in half; his feet on the floor and his head by his knees. His sling was trapped under his stomach and his free hand was tangled in his hair and pulling. Sean closed the distance and crouched down in front of him. He gently took Alex's wrist and tried to encourage him to let go before he gave himself a bald patch. "Come on, Alex. It's alright. Look at me."

Begrudgingly, Alex sat up a little, squinting at Sean. "What-?"

"Here, your nose is bleeding," Sean said. He pressed the cloth that he had retrieved into Alex's now free hand, letting him wipe his own face. He would probably be mortified if Sean were to do it. That is, if he were aware enough to realise that it was happening. He ended up with a smear of blood on his cheek, but Sean decided not to comment. "Do you remember what we talked about in the kitchen?"

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, whether in pain or concentration, Sean wasn't sure. "I- I don't—"

"Okay, it's okay," Sean interrupted. "You told us about the plane crash and Scott and the headaches. Hank's just gone to get the professor so he can help you."

"It hurts," Alex groaned, hand going back to his head and pushing at the pain. Sean took his hand away again, holding it this time so that Alex could squeeze it. His grip was tight enough that Sean mildly feared he was gonna break his fingers, but he didn't try to take his hand back. "So much worse… it never hurt this bad before."

Sean didn't want to think about what that could mean, but Alex's nose was still bleeding, he was fading in and out of awareness and he couldn't remember what had happened ten minutes ago. 'Something seriously wrong' didn't cover this situation anymore, and Sean had the terrifying thought that if Alex was left in this state much longer then it might… it might _kill_ him.

But then Charles and Hank finally arrived, and Sean forcefully pushed that thought out of his head.

* * *

When Hank had told Charles that he was going to confront Alex about the missing painkillers, he was worried, but trusted Hank and Sean to be there for their friend. He hadn't expected Hank to then come barging into his room at 3am.

He knew that it was an emergency, the hurricane of panicked thoughts escaping Hank in waves informed Charles of that, so he didn't question the rude awakening. He allowed Hank to help him into his chair without complaint, understanding that speed was of the essence and took precedence over his dignity. But when Hank took him careening down the halls at a dangerous pace, it was time to ask questions.

"Hank, what the devil is going on?"

"Alex," Hank replied shortly. "It wasn't what we thought at all. There's something wrong with him. At first I thought it was emotional trauma presenting physical symptoms – psychosomatic, you know. But when he just _collapsed_ I figured—"

"Wait, Alex collapsed?" Charles asked, his worry skyrocketing. He knew that Alex hadn't been taking care of himself; anyone with eyes could tell he wasn't sleeping or eating properly, but for it to have gotten to the point of literal collapse… "I knew that it was inevitable eventually, he was exhausted—"

Hank shook his head as they took a corner too fast. He was using his powers, potentially without realising, and Charles quietly feared that the wheels of his chair might not be able to keep up. "No Charles, you didn't see it. He just _dropped_. And what he told us about the memories, about Scott, coupled with the pain he's in… I think there's something else at play here."

Charles closed his eyes. He had indeed read the file that Moira had gotten from the CIA. He knew what had happened to Alex's parents, the paranoid delusions that he was diagnosed with in the aftermath and the subsequent stay at the mental facility in Nebraska. It was why Moira had argued so strongly against Alex being recruited, more so than the fact that Alex was in prison. But both Charles and Erik had agreed to meet him anyway, and from there the rest was history.

He had feared that the delusions had returned as a result of the stress that Scott had unknowingly put Alex under, but had hoped that Alex would come to him before it became too serious. Charles knew that Alex would never hurt Scott, and hadn't feared him being around the child. He was more afraid of Alex hurting himself. Having been in a mental institution, Charles knew that Alex would have been put through some extreme treatments. He thought that pushing him would have just made it worse.

But Hank's words made Charles rethink his method of dealing with Alex. The hands-off approach was supposed to allow Alex to trust him when he was ready, rather than feel pressured and defensive.

"What do you mean, something else?"

Hank paused as the lift doors closed, shifting impatiently. "I think that someone's been in his head, and they weren't too careful about it."

Charles raised his eyebrows, but didn't get a chance to comment before they were moving again, thundering down the corridor to Alex's room. When they entered, they were greeted with the sight of Sean crouched on the floor, watching Alex worriedly. He looked up as they entered. "He's getting worse."

Charles wheeled himself over to the bed as Sean stood and took a seat next to Alex. Hank followed, coming to stand behind Charles' shoulder. Hank sucked in a breath. "When did the nose bleed start?"

Sean shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I only noticed it when we got here, and it hasn't stopped since."

Charles studied Alex closely, taking in the pained expression and the hunched posture. He was still gripping Sean's hand, most likely not even aware that he was doing so. His skin was white enough to be near-translucent, and he was shaking hard. His eyes were bloodshot and distant, the pupils slightly blown. Blood that Sean hadn't managed to catch with the cloth had dripped down onto his shirt.

"Hank," Charles murmured. "I fear you might be right."

* * *

Hank felt his blood run cold. He knew that telepathy was a dangerous power; beyond the invasion of privacy that most people feared, the damage that they could do was astounding. Hank had researched it thoroughly when he had begun working on Cerebro, but back then it had been fascinating. Now, as he looked at Alex and the consequences a telepath may have left in their wake, terror struck him.

Altering memories, as Hank feared had been done to Alex, wasn't just a case of planting a few suggested images like a hypnotist and letting the brain naturally incorporate them. It was the rewriting of neural pathways; the obliteration of nerve impulses and the trampling of foreign signals that didn't belong. It didn't just mess someone up mentally, it left _physical_ scars in the brain tissue.

Hank swallowed. "Can you help him?"

"I can try," Charles nodded. He reached forward and touched a hand to Alex's knee trying to get his attention. "Alex? Can you hear me? I need you to look at me, Alex."

Slowly, Alex did as he was told, though it was clear that he was having difficulty focusing. As soon as he looked at Charles though, his pained expression flickered with fear and he tried to pull away. With Sean at his side gripping his elbow and Charles' chair boxing him in at the front there wasn't anywhere to go. "No. No! _Get away._ No!"

Alex was panicking, his words mumbled and barely coherent as he tried to escape anyway. Sean caught him with an arm around his back, keeping him in place. Without thinking, Hank pushed Charles' chair back and crouched down in his place. "Alex, Alex stop, listen to me. We're trying to help you. Do you remember what we talked about? The professor is going to help you, Alex," Hank reached up and grasped Alex's shoulder tightly, forcing Alex to meet his eyes. "He can make the pain go away."

A slight shift from Charles behind him reminded Hank that that wasn't a promise that he could make, but it got Alex to stop struggling. Apprehensively, Alex looked past Hank to stare at the professor. It was such a young and vulnerable expression that looked so out of place on Alex's face that Hank almost flinched.

"You can make it go away?" Alex asked, desperation leaking into his voice.

Charles looked uncomfortable, but thankfully Alex wasn't with it enough to notice. Hank stood and let Charles move back to where he was. "If you would let me try."

Hank didn't know what was going through Alex's head, didn't know how much _could_ go through it with the pain that he was in, but he thought he saw some of the trust that all of them had gained in Charles. It was clear that Alex was struggling, hardly able to focus and losing awareness of what was happening by the second. It was hard to believe that barely twenty minutes ago they had been having a conversation in the kitchen. It was as if a dam had been broken, and now Alex was drowning in the current; left helpless but for them.

Alex closed his eyes. "Please, just make it _stop."_

Charles immediately placed a hand to his temple, using Alex's acquiescence to gain access to his mind. And then Alex _screamed._

Sean winced in both pain and surprise, Alex's grip on his hand having suddenly gotten tighter. Sean looked to Hank. "What the hell? Why is it hurting him?"

Alex began thrashing, trying to get away with blind desperation. Both Hank and Sean tried to hold him still; tried to stop him from hurting either them or himself, but Alex fought against them like an animal in a cage. He kicked out, catching the arm of the professor's chair and pushing him back about half a metre, but Charles didn't react.

"I-I don't know," Hank stammered as he dodged Alex's flailing fist. He was grateful that at least one of Alex's arms was trapped in the sling, but now that he had let go of Sean in favour of trying to punch him it was a small mercy. Alex had kicked Hank in the knee and elbowed Sean in the throat before they managed to get his good arm pinned behind his back and Hank holding his legs. "I think maybe- _woah!"_

Both Hank and Sean leapt backwards as the tell-tale red glow of Alex's powers materialised around him. Hank was a split second away from dragging Charles to the floor to avoid being barbecued, when Alex abruptly went limp. The glow vanished, and Hank took a breath.

Tentatively, Hank placed a clawed hand against Alex's throat, relieved to feel the too-fast pulse thrumming beneath his fingers. Sean watched him, sighing in relief when Hank nodded, and then looked over at the professor. Charles hadn't moved from where Alex had kicked him to, his hand still to his temple and his face twisted in concentration.

"What the hell was that?" Sean asked.

"I think, here, help me with him," Hank interrupted himself. Between the two of them they managed to get Alex upright again. His eyes were still closed and his face was pinched with pain, but they got him sitting up where he had been in front of Charles, even if he was mostly slumped against Hank. "If I'm right, I think that when he was at that asylum, a telepath messed with his memories. Though he doesn't remember it, some part of mind still does. So when Charles went in…"

"…Alex tried to fight him, recognising him as familiar to the someone that screwed him up before," Sean deduced. "Woah."

Hank nodded in agreement. He picked up the abandoned cloth and pressed it against the now gushing nosebleed, trying to stem the flow. Alex's skin was feverish to the touch, his breath coming in short gasps between violent, full body shudders. Hank could only hope that whatever Charles was doing, he did it fast. Who knew how much longer Alex could hold out like that.

"Can… can the professor fix that?" Sean asked tentatively. He was looking at Alex with unmasked concern as if afraid that he would shatter at any moment. "He can just erase the fake memories like you said, right?"

"I don't know," Hank shrugged. "Telepathy is… the mind can only take so much. Whatever was done to him was done years ago, and Alex has been unconsciously reinforcing it all that time. You saw how he reacted when we suggested that Scott might exist. He can't accept that, and it's not just misplaced guilt. It's a deeply ingrained defence mechanism. Even if Charles can discern what's real and what's been planted, getting Alex to believe it… Well. He's pretty stubborn."

Sean sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. "This is so messed up. If you're right about this… Jeez. Someone really could have made him forget that he had a brother? How is that…? _Why_ would someone even _want_ to do that?"

That was the next question that really needed answering. But Alex chose that moment to wake suddenly with a desperate gasp, his eyes searching wildly for a moment before rolling back in his head. Hank had a moment of panic before Charles reached over and gently touched his arm. "It's alright. I put him to sleep. He needs it."

Hank let out a breath and adjusted his hold on the now completely unconscious Alex. He was slouched against Hank's side with his head resting against Hank's shoulder. Alex would probably have punched him if he were awake enough to realise that he was essentially being hugged, but Hank was just glad that Alex's breathing had evened out to something resembling normal. "What did you find?"

"You were right," Charles said apprehensively. "A telepath has definitely been in his mind. That, coupled with the trauma of losing his parents so abruptly has left his memories sporadic at best. It's hard to get a clear picture of what happened, but I have done what I can to help clear up the confusion and alleviate the pain for now."

"Does he have a brother?" Sean asked.

Charles nodded.

"Is it Scott?"

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, looking as if he were fighting a headache of his own. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "There were certainly similarities between the boy in Alex's memories and Scott, but it was hard to tell for certain. Alex's little brother was very young at the time of the accident. The likelihood of him still remembering what happened at that age is low, but the memories should still exist in his mind. With Scott's permission, I would like to see if I can find them."

"Why would someone do something like this?" Hank asked, repeating Sean's earlier question.

"I do not know," Charles sighed. "But someone went to a great deal of trouble to separate them. Perhaps learning the who, will lead us to the why."

Hank thought back to the third doctor on Scott's file. That was someone with a clear interest in the boy, but with the majority of the data missing, it was near impossible to tell just what they were looking for. If Scott really was Alex's little brother, then perhaps Hank should take another look at Trask's files.

"Come now, it's late," Charles said, interrupting Hank's thoughts. He looked worriedly at Alex, reaching over and placing a hand on his knee. "We should let him rest. He'll be out for quite a while. I'll speak to Scott when it's a more decent hour, see if we can't get to the bottom of this."

Charles nodded at them both and then wheeled himself from the room, leaving Hank and Sean to get Alex laying down more comfortably on the bed.

"How do you think he's gonna react?" Sean asked as he stood beside the bed. He looked over at Hank. "When we tell him that he really does have a little brother?"

Hank closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "I don't know. But we're not going to let him face it alone."


	6. Chapter 6

Charles opened his eyes to see blue sky through a broken canopy of trees. A trail of smoke cut through the clouds like a too-thick contrail. The smell of something burning assaulted his nostrils and there was a weak wheezing sound, as if someone couldn't quite figure out how to use a pair of bellows.

He was lying flat on his back on something lumpy and squidgy, and there were tight straps around his shoulders and waist holding him in place.

It took a moment for the facts to register, before child-like terror bombarded his mind.

Flashes of a plane on fire – two people, a man and a woman – his parents – falling, screaming –

Scott realised that the something soft he was lying on was his older brother, and that wheezing sound was Alex struggling to breathe.

Charles watched from the backseat of Scott's mind as tiny hands scrabbled at the buckle on his chest. It took nearly a full minute for Scott to figure out the catch and release it, rolling off of Alex as soon as he was free. Alex coughed wetly, eyes squeezed tightly shut in pain.

It was odd to see Alex so young when Charles had only ever known the teenaged version. This Alex was so much smaller, his blonde hair a little longer and the slight chubbiness of a nine-year-old's puppy fat shaping his jaw. He was also badly hurt. At least one, if not both, of his legs were broken. There was blood in his hair and trickling down the side of his face. And the fact that he was still struggling to catch his breath made Charles suspect that several ribs were cracked too. He couldn't see Alex's back with how he had landed, but Charles knew from the scars that he had seen that there were terrible burns there and shrapnel buried in his shoulder.

All Scott could see, however, was the blood. And all he understood was that his big brother was hurting.

"Alex? Alex, wake up!" Scott cried, tugging his brother's arm. Charles could feel the tears streaming down the child's cheeks as if they were his own. "Alex, I'm scared! Please wake up!"

Alex groaned and dragged his eyes open. He made a brief attempt at moving, but quickly realised that that was a terrible idea. His eyes were hazy, one of his pupils slightly blown as he struggled to focus through the pain and concussion. "Ssscott?"

"Alex!" Scott shouted in relief, making Alex flinch at the volume. He scrubbed at his tears with his sleeve and then reached out towards Alex. He pulled back at the last second. "I don't know what to do. Mommy and Daddy… they haven't come down from the air-plane yet. They can fix your ouchies. Mommy always does. Where are they Alex?"

"Shhh, it's s'okay Scotty," Alex slurred. He patted Scott's knee as his eyes slipped closed again. "They'll find'us. It's s'gonna be okay."

"But where are they?" Scott demanded with all the petulance of a toddler. "Alex?"

Alex had passed out again, and Charles was left with Scott's terror of being completely alone. Mentally, Charles closed his eyes, struggling with the raw panic and fear that tinted the memory. When he had asked Scott if he could take a look he hadn't expected to find something so clear to be buried so deeply in the child's mind. He was just glad that Scott wouldn't be aware of what Charles was seeing; Scott's conscious mind slumbering while Charles searched for the truth.

Scott was indeed Alex's little brother. But that just led to so many more questions.

 _Who_ had separated them? _How_ had they gotten away with it? And _why_ would they have gone to such extreme lengths to do so?

The memory grew hazy, blurring to greyscale until the _crack_ of a breaking twig brought everything back into focus.

It had grown darker, the sky now the deep blue of twilight and only a half moon providing light through the tree's canopy. Scott was shivering, arms hugged tightly around his stomach where he lay curled on his side, his head resting on Alex's shoulder. The tears had dried on Scott's cheeks and his eyes felt crusty where they had closed in sleep, the time that he had spent crying in fear leaving him weak and exhausted.

A rustle of leaves followed, and Scott snapped upright.

Scott was afraid of the dark. Most children his age were. Being alone in the woods with only his severely injured brother for company had not helped that fear any. As Scott listened intently for more movement, Charles saw images of monsters and ghouls lurking in the child's mind.

"Alex," Scott whisper-shouted. He was tucked as close to Alex's side as he could get without literally being on top of him, but Scott pressed closer still. He shook Alex's shoulder harshly, his fingers curling into the torn shirt. "Alex, there's something out there."

More branches broke under the distant footsteps growing closer, the low murmuring of a voice too indistinct to make out actual words. Charles could see Scott filling in the gaps with the wild imagination of a two-year-old; the approaching someone now a some _thing,_ covered with fur and growling with hunger.

Scott shook Alex harder, desperation and fear making him rougher with his brother than he should have been. "Alex. Alex you've got to wake up! Please Alex! Wake up!"

Alex gave a weak gasp, his face scrunching in agony before his eyes slowly peeled open.

"Alex! There's a monster coming! He's gonna eat us!"

Alex looked dazed and thoroughly confused, but the fear in Scott's voice seemed to make it through. From where he lay, he searched around them, trying to find just what had gotten Scott so worked up. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a broken wheeze. He licked his lips and cleared his throat before trying again. "Zere's nothing…"

 _Snap_.

Scott sucked in a breath and stared in the direction that the sound had come from. The voice was a little clearer, though it was still unintelligible. To Charles, it sounded like someone mumbling under their breath. He figured that it was most likely someone from a Search and Rescue team (someone must have seen the fireball of the plane going down) and that it was just fear and adrenaline colouring the memory as something sinister.

But there was distinctly something off about the fear that Charles felt from Scott. There was a cold dread soaking through the child's mind that didn't seem to fit with what Charles was seeing. It was the terrified anticipation and resignation that awful, horrible things were about to happen.

Movement and a groan dragged Scott's eyes away from the shadows and back to Alex, who was struggling to push himself up onto his elbows. He hissed in a whimper between clenched teeth as Scott automatically reached out to help him up. Relief flooded through Scott at Alex's apparent recovery, but Charles could see that Alex was still very much teetering on the edge.

A stumble and a crunch came from somewhere not far off from the clearing that the boys were in, followed closely by a loud and clear litany of curse words.

"Sscotty, listen to me," Alex said, his voice still slurred and laced with pain, but his eyes a little clearer as they searched out Scott's. "You might need'to run, okay? If zisis a bad person, I need'you to run, okay? Promise me?"

Scott shook his head, brushing angrily at the tears that had started falling again. "No. If it's a bad man then we'll both run."

"I can't, Ssscott," Alex said, his own fear of being immobile and helpless tinging his voice before he managed to find a more confident and reassuring tone. "But you have'to. Run, Scotty."

"Mommy said to stay together," Scott pouted defiantly.

Alex gave him a weak smile. "She also sssaid I had to watch'out for you."

Charles felt his heart break as he listened to what he realised was the last conversation that the two brothers would have for seven years. He saw Alex's terror and sadness and need to protect. He felt Scott's worry and misery and determination to be brave. They were just _children_.

Footsteps through the undergrowth.

Alex gripped Scott's shoulder. "If I tell you'to run, you _run_ , okay Sscotty?"

"I don't want to be on my own," Scott sniffed, trying to stop himself from crying. "I'm scared, Alex."

"Don't be," Alex smiled. "Whatever happensss, I'll find'you, okay? I'll _find_ you."

Scott took a deep breath, ignoring the approaching danger that was nearly on them and focusing entirely on Alex. "You promise?"

"There you are!" a new voice declared triumphantly. A shudder that originated in Scott's subconscious trickled like ice cubes down Charles' spine. Images too fast to see flashed across Scott's mind's eye, each one dripping with trepidation, anger and pain. "Who knew you would end up so far away from the crash site?"

Scott looked up at the new arrival to find an unassuming man. He was perhaps in his thirties, dark hair at the beginnings of turning grey and dressed rather inappropriately in a business suit. But what struck fear into Scott's heart was the man's eyes. They were entirely black with blood red irises, and seemed to stare right through Scott without feeling.

Alex shifted so that he was sitting upright, his shoulder in front of Scott protectively. "Who're'you?"

The man studied Alex critically, and then frowned. "What have you gone and done to yourself? I made sure that you had a parachute, could you not fathom how to use it correctly?"

Scott blinked at the man in confusion, but the colour drained completely from Alex's face. "Run, Scott."

"But—"

"Oh there's no need for that now, Alexander," the man sighed, as if the fact that he had just admitted to orchestrating their parents' deaths was no reason to be so dramatic. Charles wanted desperately to protect the two boys from the man, to beat the smug smile from his face as he destroyed their lives, but Charles was merely an observer of events that had already happened. He could only watch as he waited for what would come next.

 _"Run."_

Scott did as he was told, scrambling to his feet and running with the incoordination of a toddler, making it only a few steps before he found himself running on air.

"Let him go!" Alex shouted.

Scott screamed as he looked down, his feet pumping uselessly about a metre above the ground. There was a cold presence at the back of his neck as if someone was holding his scruff like a kitten, but the man hadn't moved from where he stood on the opposite side of the clearing. Scott cried and kicked and struggled as he was floated back over to the man's side and settled back on his feet. A weight like stone settled in Scott's muscles, freezing him in place.

"Now that's quite enough of that," the man said firmly. "I do not tolerate disobedience, Scott."

Scott could not move. He was trapped in his own body, utterly helpless and at the mercy of a stranger. Terrified didn't cover the abject fear that he felt. Charles had never experienced the telepathic paralysis himself before, but feeling it by proxy through a two-year-old was something that he would never forget.

"Let'him go, please," Alex begged. He had sagged down onto one elbow, lacking the strength to hold himself up anymore, but frantically clinging to consciousness. "Take'me if you'want but _please_ , let Ssccotty go."

From where Scott stood, he watched the man walk forward and crouch down in front of Alex. "As much as I would love to take you both – the rarity of there being two boys in a generation is such a tantalising prospect – but I'm afraid that you are simply not ready, Alexander. Admittedly, it is a little soon for young Scott here as well; he will need to grow some more in a controlled environment before I can begin, but waiting any longer would have made things difficult."

"Don't hurt'him."

The man shook his head. "Pain is merely the key to unlock potential, Alexander. But that is something you have yet to learn, I suppose."

 _"Please."_

"I'm going to need you to be whole and undamaged when I come to collect you, Alexander," the man said, dismissing Alex's pleas as he stood and cocked his head to one side. "I'm allowing the rescue teams to find you now. You just rest and mature, I'll take good care of Scott."

"No-no… please no…"

The man came a stood beside Scott and lay a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly Scott was moving again; one foot in front of the other as he was led away like a marionette.

The memory came to an end, and Charles opened his eyes.

"Are you okay, professor?" the nine-year-old Scott asked, looking in concern through his ruby coloured glasses. "You've been crying."

Charles blinked and cleared his throat, glancing around his office to orientate himself as he wiped at the half-dry tear tracks on his cheeks. He was still reeling from the memory that he had witnessed but he forced himself to mask his turmoil for the child's sake. "I'm fine, Scott, thank you."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Scott asked hopefully.

Yes, Charles did, and far more than he had ever expected. To find out that there was a plot so sinister, a person obsessed enough to crash a plane to gain access and control over two children – and this was _before_ either had ever presented as mutants… Just who was this man? And what on earth did he want from the Summers' boys?

* * *

Sean pushed open Alex's door without knocking, a tray of food balanced in one hand and his schoolbag full of homework slung over the other shoulder. He paused briefly in the doorway, and then walked right in. "He's still asleep?"

Hank looked up from the file that he was reading and then glanced down beside him. Alex was indeed still asleep, taking up one side of the bed next to where Hank was sat and propped up against the spare pillows, various files and papers spread across the blankets. "Charles did say that he would be out for a while."

"Yeah, but it's been like fourteen hours now," Sean shrugged. He dumped his schoolbag on the floor and sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, resting the tray of food on his lap. He had stolen it from the kitchens on his way up from his final class of the day, an extra plate on the side in case the others wanted some. "I figured hunger would have woken him up by now."

Hank perked up at the prospect of food, and Sean wordlessly handed him over the plate. "Thank you."

"Has he woken up at all? Nightmares or anything?" Sean asked.

"No," Hank shook his head. "Charles made sure that his sleep was dreamless, to give his mind and body a chance to recover some before… before we have to tell him."

Sean shuddered. That was a conversation that no one was looking forward to. "I still can't believe what the professor saw in Scott's memories. That guy caused a plane crash that killed two people and essentially erased Scott from existence. How does someone do that? How do they get away with it? And why in the hell would they want to in the first place?"

"There's also the fact that he was a mutant," Hank added. "Charles saw him use telepathy and telekinesis in that memory. That at least explains why no one remembered Scott. It's easy to manipulate someone into forgetting a neighbour's kid when there's no physical evidence that he was ever there in the first place. The only person that he had a hard time convincing was Alex."

"And we saw how that turned out," Sean finished. He looked worriedly at Alex, who was utterly oblivious to their conversation. He looked better than he had that morning - the rest was clearly doing him some good - but he was still too pale and his brow was slightly furrowed as if still in pain even in sleep. Sean sighed and gestured at the paperwork. "Did you find anything else?"

Hank noted something down and then closed the file, keeping a claw between the pages to save his place. "I've combed through the files from Trask, but there's nothing solid there. There's four months' worth of time unaccounted for in total, and there's only so much I can infer from reading between the lines. I think… I think that the third doctor was giving Scott a supplement of some kind. Something that was making his powers develop faster. He's very young to be as powerful as he is, and to have presented at eight when Alex didn't discover his powers until he was fourteen, I think that that might have been why Scott was taken."

"You think that this third doctor and the man from Scott's memories are the same person," Sean deduced.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Hank nodded. He picked up another file and passed it over to Sean. "This is what Moira managed to get from the CIA. She tracked Scott back to Spring Meadows Orphanage in Omaha under the name Scott Milbury. His file states that he was found abandoned by the side of the road with no memory of his family at the age of two. The place was run by a Robert Windsor, who took ownership of the orphanage three months before Scott was found, and four weeks after the plane crash."

Sean put his empty tray on the floor and slouched back against the wooden footboard. "So, Mystery Man crashes the plane, but makes sure Scott and Alex survive. He then takes Scott, makes him forget his family and 'finds' him a new home at the orphanage. And then what? Controls how he grows up? Juices him up so he gains his powers early?"

"And then lets him be taken by Trask so that he can start his experiments," Hank finished. "Windsor sold the Orphanage a week before Scott disappeared. That's also when a Doctor Nathaniel Essex started working for Trask. This guy has been in Scott's life the whole time. Even... even as a baby. Scott's paediatrician was a doctor called Milbury, the same name that Scott was given."

"Damn," Sean cursed. "That is some obsession this Mystery Man's got. Did he stalk Alex as well?"

Hank sighed. "Yes. The doctor at the hospital that Alex was taken to after the crash was Doctor Milbury – different state, different hospital to the paediatrician, but it's too coincidental to be a different doctor. Milbury was in charge of Alex's care for four weeks until a psychiatrist was called in to tell Alex that Scott didn't exist. Milbury then quit—"

"And Spring Meadows gained new ownership."

"Exactly," Hank agreed. "I think that Milbury, or whatever his name is, figured that Alex would accept that he had made Scott up. He had probably been influencing his mind while he was in the coma for three weeks. I'm sure there must have been other people involved – someone to destroy any paper trail that Scott had been born, someone else to remodel their house on the base in Anchorage in order to set this up. As far as he was concerned, Alex was isolated and in the system, and Milbury could find him later."

"But he misjudged Alex," Sean said. "He didn't give up on Scott."

Hank scratched his chin and nudged at another file with his foot. "No, he didn't, and Milbury came back. A few months later, Robert Windsor takes a three month sabbatical from Spring Meadows, and Dr Essex becomes a psychiatrist at a mental facility in Nebraska. Moira managed to find Alex's paperwork. It's… it's bad. The telepathic intervention isn't in the file, but everything else is. Essex used a punishment/reward system to reinforce the belief that Scott was a figment of Alex's imagination. If Alex insisted that Scott was real, he was shocked or hurt. If he admitted that he made Scott up, he got to eat."

Sean swallowed, closing his eyes against the images that Hank's words brought to mind. Alex would have only been ten at the time. Just a kid, alone and hurting and made to believe that he was crazy.

"I don't know if Alex doesn't remember those three months because Essex wiped his mind," Hank said quietly, "or if he forgot on his own to protect himself from the trauma. I just hope that he doesn't ever remember it."

Sean nodded in agreement. He had gone from knowing literally nothing about Alex less than twenty-four hours ago, to now knowing more about him than Alex did about himself. Sean figured that it couldn't have been all sunshine and roses for Alex, considering that they had found him in prison after all, but no one, _no one_ , could have predicted a story as twisted and messed up as the truth. "Do you reckon that Alex getting arrested was part of the plan?"

"I think so," Hank tapped his fingers against the file on his knees. "As it turns out, a week before Charles and Erik recruited Alex, a transfer request had been put in. Given what he was arrested for and his previous stay at an institute, Alex was supposed to go to a specialist facility. A facility run by Trask Industries."

Sean whistled at the close call. If the professor had decided against recruiting Alex, or even if they had visited him later, they could have ended up finding both Alex and Scott at Trask's a month ago. "That matches up with what the professor said, that Mystery Man was going to come back for Alex when he was older. But I still don't get _why_ he would go to all these lengths? I mean, I like Alex and Scott, but what's so special about them to warrant all this?"

"I'm not certain, but…" Hank trailed off thoughtfully. "It all started when Scott was born, and I think I know why that is. There's something weird about the Summers' family tree. There are often patterns in genetics, but not usually this strict. Every other generation there is only one child, and it's always a boy. The alternate generation varies, one boy plus a sister or two, but there is always only ever one boy per generation. That is, until Alex and Scott."

Sean furrowed his brow in confusion. "I don't get it."

"I'm not sure either," Hank shrugged. "But I think that Essex is a geneticist maybe, and that the Summers' are a genetic oddity that he's obsessed with. He's a mutant, so he's aware that we exist. If he found an ancestor of Alex's with a mutation… He must know about the X-gene, and that it's passed down the male line, and there's always been a male in every generation of the Summers' family tree. This time it's different, thought. There are brothers, and that…"

"Makes them special?" Sean asked incredulously.

"I have no idea," Hank admitted. "It's a theory. I think that the only way we are ever going to know for certain what Essex wants is if we ask him."

Sean mulled over everything that they had learned and everything Essex had already put Alex and Scott through and shivered at the thought of meeting the psychopath pulling the strings.

"Here's hoping _that_ never happens."


	7. Chapter 7

"Good morning, Alex."

Alex nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice, blinking in surprise to find the professor waiting in his room. He had only been awake thirty minutes or so, the desperate need to relieve himself dragging him out of the bed far faster than his heavy limbs wanted to allow. He still felt groggy and out of sorts now, even after showering and brushing his teeth. His brain was taking a while to join his body in consciousness, though the sudden heart attack helped.

"Professor?" Alex asked in confusion. "What are you doing in my room? Am I late or something?"

He was pretty sure that his clock had read seven am before he had made his mad dash to the bathroom, so he still had an hour before he had to get to class… What was going on?

The professor studied him for a moment. "We need to talk, Alex."

Well, that sounded distinctly ominous. Alex frowned, struggling to get his brain to kick into gear. He didn't remember doing anything that would warrant a serious talk, but at that moment his mind was so foggy that he would probably find it hard to recall his own name if asked. He had some vague notion that the professor was worried about him, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember—

 _Oh_. This was probably about Scott. The name incurred a flare of pain in his head, though Alex distantly noted that it was milder than he had been expecting.

"Perhaps you should sit down," Charles suggested, gesturing at the bed. Tentatively, Alex did as he was told, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress in front of the professor's chair. "How are you feeling?"

Alex furrowed his brow. Honestly, he felt _weird_. His body was heavy and stiff and his mind felt waterlogged. He wasn't exactly known for his smarts, but right then he just felt _slow_. He couldn't seem to comprehend anything, but he didn't feel overly concerned about that. He felt… _disconnected_. But all Alex said was "Fine."

Charles raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but didn't comment. "I'm not sure how much you remember, so I will start at the beginning. The night before last, Hank and Sean confronted you over some missing painkillers from the Infirmary. You told them that you took them—"

"For a headache," Alex interrupted defensively. He remembered now – how bad the pain in his head had gotten, driving him down to the Infirmary in the middle of the night. He hadn't allowed himself to sleep for so long because of the nightmares – he hadn't been thinking clearly. He should have known that Hank would notice and tell the professor – "I realise I should have asked first, but it was late and—"

 _And I didn't want anyone to know_. They would think he was crazy.

"Alex," Charles said calmly. "You told Hank and Sean _everything."_

Fear tightened Alex's chest and he shook his head. A vague memory of the school's kitchen surfaced in his mind's eye, but it was coloured with pain and exhaustion. What had he said? What did they think? Was the professor going to kick him out? Send him back to that mad house in Nebraska?

"Alex," Charles repeated, reaching over and squeezing Alex's knee to garner his attention. Alex realised that he was panting heavily, unable to draw in a deep enough breath. "It's alright. Calm down and breathe for me. You are safe here, Alex. No one is leaving you."

Alex blinked and met Charles' eyes, looking for deceit but only finding empathy and kindness. Some of the panic abated a little, and Alex drew in a ragged gasp. His eyes were watering, and he rubbed at them before they could form tears. It might not be so bad… How much did they know? "What…" he croaked. "What did I tell them?"

"You told them about your parents, and the plane crash," Charles explained carefully, still keeping a grounding hand on Alex's knee. "I knew some of it from your file; the injuries that you sustained and the… the trauma that you dealt with after. I was also aware of your time at the mental facility, but I never… I am truly sorry, Alex."

There was guilt in Charles' expression, but Alex didn't understand why. So what if the professor knew; it wasn't like it was something that Alex had _ever_ wanted to talk about. Charles had never treated him any different – like he was unstable or anything. And most importantly, he had never told any of the others. So what if Charles had read it in a file? It didn't make any difference… did it?

The others, Hank and Sean, would probably start being careful around him now that they knew. Maybe out of sympathy for his past, but most likely out of fear of another mental break, but Alex could deal with that. He closed his eyes in relief. He hadn't told them anything they couldn't find out for themselves. Hopefully, now that they had their answer, they wouldn't worry so much about the nightmares and the headaches. They could let him deal with it.

"That's okay," Alex murmured, but Charles shook his head.

"There's more, Alex," the professor said sadly. "More than even you were ever aware. Your theory about Scott, his true identity—"

"It's not a theory," Alex denied forcefully, the relief gone in an instant and replaced with dread. He was still struggling to keep up, the damned fogginess in his brain persistently keeping him from grasping complete thoughts. He felt as though he were missing something, some bigger picture, but his mind could only focus on the immediate. If they knew who he thought Scott might be… If they knew that he was that messed up… "I was over tired, thinking about the past. I made a mistake."

"No, you didn't," Charles answered. Alex froze. "You were right. Scott Milbury is truly Scott Summers. He is your little brother, Alex."

 _You're a big brother now… That means you have to watch out for him._

The pain that accompanied his mother's voice was duller than it had been in a while; more of an ache in his heart than a spike in his head, but Alex couldn't focus on that. A two-year-old boy with unruly brown hair and big blue eyes stared up at him, entirely trusting. The image didn't falter, didn't fade with doubt as it always had before. It just slowly changed into a nine-year-old wearing dorky red shades and a hopeful expression. The same person.

 _No._

"I don't have a little brother."

Charles nodded. "I know that is what you have been forced to believe, what was done to you… Let me tell you everything, Alex. Let me help you, please."

Alex didn't _want_ to know. He had been living with this war in his head for seven years; buried deep down under every mental wall and emotional block that he could construct around the memories. All until he had saved a little boy from a lab, and suddenly that war was dug up and waged anew. He needed to bury it. Forget it. Move on. It was a can of worms that should never have been opened and needed the lid screwed back on tight.

But what if Charles was right? What if Scott really was…

Then he had abandoned his little brother for his own protection. Allowed himself to believe that Scott had never existed so that he could keep going. He had had seven years of selfishness. If Scott… if it was really true… Scott deserved to know. So Alex would have to as well.

"The headaches that you have been experiencing," Charles began, taking Alex's silence as agreement. "They came to a head that night in the kitchen. You collapsed under the strain, and Hank asked for my help. I know that you don't remember, but you gave me your permission to enter your mind. What I found…"

Charles took a deep breath. "What I found were the remnants of your true memories. They were tarnished and splintered, but they were still there, buried under false memories. These were not created by trauma as you were led to believe, Alex," the professor paused, "but rather by another telepath."

"What?"

"There is far more going on here than any of us realised," Charles explained. "While in your mind I tried to undo some of the damage that had been done; to make your true memories easier for you to access, but there was only so much that I could do. The telepath has left your mind scarred and… and I cannot completely fix what they have done. I'm sorry Alex. The headaches will continue, though hopefully now they will be more manageable. Hank is already trying to formulate an effective pain relief—"

"How do you know?" Alex interrupted, not caring about the headaches. So he was damaged goods, whatever. He had dealt with them this long. The whole telepath aspect was terrifying, but irrelevant. "How do you know that Sc—That he's my brother?"

"I saw the boy in your memories," the professor answered. "I felt that it was worth testing to see if you were correct. I asked Scott if I could take a look in his mind as well. He was so young at the time of the crash that the memories were buried deep, but they matched with yours."

Charles paused apprehensively, and Alex tensed. "In fact, I saw in them the telepath behind it all. A man so obsessed with you and Scott that he caused the plane to crash and stole Scott away."

Scott was kidnapped. His parents were _murdered_ and his little brother was _kidnapped_ and Alex had done nothing. He had never been able to remember what had happened after the plane exploded – his memories had always skipped to waking up three weeks later; the blind doctor with the black shades welcoming him back to the land of the living with a smile that had always creeped Alex out. Had he been awake when Scott was taken? Could he have done something? He was supposed to have protected his brother.

He had _promised_.

"Hank has been researching," Charles was saying, and Alex blinked. Charles' other hand now rested on Alex's forearm in a reassuring gesture, but Alex just felt cold. "He has followed both of your journeys since then, and this man has been there every step. We do not know what he wants from you, but now that we know of his existence I have vowed to protect you. You will be safe here, both of you. I promise you that."

Alex nodded. He knew that the school was safe. The first time that he had ever felt such a thing was when Charles had first bought them there. Before Cuba. He trusted the professor to protect Scott. But Alex also knew that the past could catch up to you anywhere – this past month was evidence of that. The mind held just as many monsters as those hiding out in the dark. "How much does he know?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm aware," Charles replied. "His mind was shielded when I looked at his memories—"

"Does he remember what was done to him?" Alex asked again. "You said that the telepath took him – what did the bastard do to him? And does Scott know?"

Charles sighed and shook his head. "I am not sure what Scott remembers, he has been through a lot in such a short space of time. We know that the telepath was the owner of the orphanage that Scott was taken to; and Hank believes that Scott was given a supplement to force his gift to manifest early." Charles grimaced. "There is also evidence that the telepath was the third doctor at Trask's labs, who was performing the additional testing. How much of that Scott was aware of remains to be seen."

 _I abandoned him to that_ , Alex thought bitterly. He had always thought that he had had it tough – alone in the foster system; orphaned at ten – killer by fifteen, but he had survived. It had all worked out for him in ways he hadn't thought possible. He remembered the day that he had been released from the mental facility in Nebraska; waiting for his social worker to take him to his latest foster parents. He had felt _relieved_ then. Lighter. A weight had been taken off his chest and he could _breathe_ again. He didn't have a little brother. He didn't have to find Scott. _Scott didn't exist_.

Now all Alex felt was guilt. He had stopped looking. He had broken his promise. He had _forgotten_ , and was _glad_ for it. All that time living his own life – _free_ – thinking that he had had more than his fair share of suffering… And there was Scott. Trapped and alone and at the mercy of a psychopath. How long had he held onto the hope that his big brother would come and find him? Did he even remember that he used to have one? Did he _want_ to?

Alex choked at the thought. Scott didn't know.

"How do I tell him?"

* * *

 _Whatever happens, I'll find you, okay?_

Scott rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the grounds that stretched around the school. He watched Rahne running around, dropping to all fours for speed as one of the older kids playfully chased after her. Scott had been invited to join them after classes had finished, but he'd turned them down. He hadn't slept well that night. Bad dreams.

 _I'll find you._

Ever since the Professor had called him into the office the day before, Scott had been feeling off. He had thought that he was in trouble, but the Professor had only wanted to take a look in his head for something – for what, Scott had no idea. But whatever the Professor had found had shaken him up, and now Scott was hearing things.

 _I promise._

It wasn't the first time that he had heard The Voice, as he had come to call it. It had been with him for as long as he could remember, making promises that never came true. Scott had relied on it in the beginning; it's familiarity comforting and reassuring. But as time had passed and the promises made had never come true, Scott had lost faith. He resented that Voice. _Hated it._

Every time that Mr Windsor had upped his vitamins at the Orphanage, Scott had suffered fever dreams – his temperature soaring and taking his half-cooked mind on a joyride. It would always start with flying; sometimes in a plane, a rocket, feathered wings… but then whatever it was would _burn_. Flames so hot he felt his skin was melting. And then would come the falling. Sometimes, there would be a different warmth to the fire; a woman's voice

 _Stay together. Stay safe. Be happy._

Scott had managed none of those things. He was alone. Mr Roberts had been mean and then the doctors at the lab… Scott thought that he might have found 'happy' though. Since he had met Alex and come to the school he thought that he might have figured out what 'happy' was supposed to be, but he had ruined that. Alex had said that he was sick, but Scott knew that he was really avoiding him. Scott had driven him away with his clinginess.

Alex was the first person that Scott had ever trusted. He had never really had friends. He didn't remember his parents. He had never cared for anyone, and no one had ever cared for him. When Alex had held him and carried him out of that lab that night… it was the first time that he had ever been touched for a reason other than to cause him pain.

He had just wanted to hold on and never let go.

But normal people didn't need such constant contact, Scott realised. They needed their own space – the 'personal bubble' as Clarice called it. She didn't like anyone touching her, and she was tough like Alex. Scott understood, he didn't like being touched either… but he had wanted to be close to Alex. To feel that safety and security that he had offered—

 _I'll find you, okay? I promise._

Scott shook his head, unintentionally thumping his forehead against the window. Stupid Voice. He wished that he knew who it belonged to so that he could punch them. He had never been able to see them in his fever dreams. He could only ever hear the Voice, promising to find him before disappearing forever. Sometimes he would see trees, smell burning… see a pair of red and black eyes staring at him like a rat in a cage…

 _I'll find you_

"Kid? You in here?" Alex called, pushing open the library door. Scott turned in the window seat, grinning broadly before he remembered that he had to be less pushy. He squashed the grin into a neutral smirk, slouching back against the glass. Alex stared at him for a long moment, his expression strange. "I've been looking for you… for a _really_ long time."

Scott cocked his head at the weird pause, but Alex shook himself and shut the door. "Do you mind… Can we talk? For a while?"

"Um… okay?" Scott said hesitantly. "You're acting really weird."

Alex gave a short laugh, but the strange look never left his eyes. He appeared nervous, his hands shaking a little as he tugged on his shirt before sitting on the couch. Scott copied him, pulling himself up onto the armchair that they usually shared and kicking his legs restlessly.

"I… I have to tell you something," Alex said after a moment. "But I guess I'm scared to."

Alex? Scared? Scott had blasted him with his laser eyes and Alex hadn't even flinched. And then Scott had heard him take on like a hundred guards. Alex wasn't afraid of anything. But as Scott studied him; noting the odd twitches and ticks as Alex stared resolutely at the floor under Scott's dangling feet, he realised that Alex _was_ afraid of something. And that something might just be Scott.

Scott didn't want to know what Alex had to tell him. Whatever it was, it was bad.

"The other day, the Professor looked in your mind," Alex began. He was pulling a thread in the couch cover, but Scott didn't think that he knew he was doing it. "He was trying to see if he could find your family, if there might be anyone out there looking for you."

 _I'll find you, okay?_

"There isn't," Scott said shortly. Alex briefly met Scott's eyes, an emotion too complicated for Scott to read swimming in his gaze. "I've always been alone."

Alex swallowed hard. "He saw the- the accident that killed your parents. You were too young to remember, I think, but it was still in your mind. He also saw… He also saw the man that took you away. We don't know who he is really, but you knew him as Robert Windsor, the guy who owned the orphanage you grew up in. He was also one of the doctors at the lab that we found you in."

Scott frowned. He wasn't really surprised; Mr Windsor had always been mean to him – forcing him to take the vitamins that made him feel sick and stopping him from going near the other kids – it wasn't that much of a stretch that he was one of the doctors too. He had been blinded early on, he had never seen their faces, but one of them had had a familiar voice. A voice that made his blood run cold and his breath shorten.

It had been the same man? From the moment that he had lost his parents to the day that Alex and the others had freed him from the lab, the same man had been controlling him? That… that was Scott's entire life. Every moment that he could remember.

"The thing is…" Alex said after a while, his voice hesitant and quiet. "That isn't all the Professor saw. There… there was someone else there with you… your… you have… Your brother was there too."

 _I'll find you, okay? I'll_ find _you!_

"No," Scott said. "I don't have a brother."

Alex looked utterly devastated, his eyes falling closed and tear slipping free. For a moment, he froze completely, not even breathing. Scott watched the strange reaction, wondering just what was wrong with Alex – why was he struggling so hard to tell Scott about this?

"You do," Alex said quietly, eyes still closed. "Your name is Scott Matthew Summers, second son of Christopher and Katherine Summers. Your brother's name is Alex.

"I'm so sorry, Scotty."

 _Mommy said to stay together_

 _She also said that I had to watch out for you_

 _I don't want to be on my own… I'm scared, Alex_

 _Don't be. Whatever happens, I'll find you, okay? I'll find you_

"No."

"Scotty…"

"Don't call me that!" Scott snapped. He pushed himself off the armchair and dropped to the carpet, anger making his hands shake. The Voice… all this time… Every time that he had heard it, every time that he had felt his hope being crushed. The brutal reality that _no one_ was coming for him. It couldn't be. It _couldn't_ be. "I don't have a brother! He _left_ me! He made a promise he didn't keep and I _hate_ _him_!"

Alex looked as if he had just been stabbed but Scott didn't care. Tears were streaming freely down his cheeks as he stepped forward, stopping just within touching distance.

"Why didn't you come find me?" Scott asked plaintively. _"Why?"_

"I… I forgot."

Scott's heart stopped in his chest, his eyes widening as he choked on a sob.

"Then you won't find it too hard to forget me again."

* * *

The door slammed hard enough to shake the library, but Alex barely heard it above the sound of his heart shattering into a million pieces. He let out a harsh sob before biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. The guilt was crushing him; the sadness and the betrayal in Scott's eyes just adding more weight to the stones on his chest, to the point where he could hardly breathe.

He was just so _angry_. At Essex—Windsor—whatever the bastard's name was. At Hank and Sean for forcing him to talk. At the Professor for interfering. _At himself_.

Alex tangled his hands in his hair and pulled hard, the rage growing inside him. How could he have done this? How could he have _forgotten_ the only important thing in his world? He had abandoned Scott. Every bad thing that the kid had ever endured was Alex's fault. He had handed Scott over and gleefully looked the other way; so caught up in himself and his problems that he _didn't even care_ that his little brother was all alone-

"Woah!" Sean shouted, suddenly appearing in front of Alex and gripping his wrists. He was crouched on the floor by Alex's knees, his eyes wide and worried. Something smelt like burning, and Alex's stomach turned. "Woah, hey, Alex! Easy, it's just me. What's wrong?"

Alex huffed self-deprecatingly. "I told him."

Sean frowned. He pulled gently but pointedly at Alex's wrists until he finally let go of his blonde hair and lowered his hands to his lap. "I take it that it didn't go well."

"Better than I was expecting," Alex shrugged.

Sean sighed, and then stood so that he could take the seat next to Alex on the couch. He wrinkled his nose as looked down at the cushions. "Who burned the couch?"

"Wh-?" Alex blinked, looking down too. On either side of him two long black scorch marks had been seared into the fabric, though thankfully the furniture wasn't on fire. His control was getting worse – all of the Professor's lessons going out the window along with Alex's emotional control. "Oh. I guess that was me. Sorry."

Sean just shook his head. He ignored the murder of the couch and turned his focus onto Alex. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him he had a brother. And that that brother was me," Alex recapped shortly. "He got mad. I can't say I blame him."

"Did you tell him about Essex, or whatever his name is?" Sean asked.

"Sure." Alex had told him. Not everything that he had learned from Hank – that would probably give the kid nightmares (it was sure as hell freaking him out) – but enough. The fact that some guy had stalked Scott since birth for some genetic oddity hadn't come up. "I told him he was the guy that took him and experimented on him."

Sean stared at him for a moment. "Did you tell him what Essex did to you?"

"Why would I?" Alex shrugged again. He had decided against wearing his sling, figuring that the twenty-eight hours of sleep that he had gotten was enough to finish healing his shoulder. Hank hadn't agreed, but had sensibly decided to pick his battles. Alex sighed. "After everything he's been through it would just sound like pathetic excuses."

"Alex…" Sean said, gripping Alex's good shoulder hard so that he got all of his attention. "It wasn't your fault. _None_ of this was your fault."

Alex shook his head, batting Sean's hand away. "I broke my promise, Sean. Not just to my parents…" Alex trailed off, his mind going back to Scott's betrayed expression; his vehement denial of having a brother. After all these years claiming that exact same thing, Alex hadn't realised just how much hearing those words would hurt. "He said that I promised I would find him, but I just forgot about him, Sean. I just left him all alone and—"

"You did find him," Sean cut him off. "Okay, it was a few years later than expected, but you did find him. Brought him somewhere safe. Looked out for him."

 _So what?_ That was like closing the stable door after the horse had bolted. Too little, far too late. It didn't change the seven years of abandonment. It didn't stop Scott from suffering alone and scared and waiting for his big brother to come find him.

"You don't understand—"

"I don't understand what?" Sean asked forcefully, leaning forward into Alex's personal space. A few days ago he wouldn't have dared to do so, not sure how Alex would react. But now that he knew just how broken Alex was, there was no fear, just determination. "Your need to punish yourself for something way beyond your control? No. I don't understand that. But what _you_ don't see is that you're not just punishing yourself."

Sean paused, looking Alex straight in the eyes. "You are the first person that Scott has trusted in a very long time. Losing you right now, letting him believe that you intentionally betrayed him, that is only going to _hurt him_. He'll never trust anyone again. He will always be alone. Do you _want_ that?"

Alex balked, pushing back away from Sean. "Of course I don't but—"

"No." Sean caught Alex's wrist. "You will talk to him. You will tell him everything. He'll forgive you, Alex. He wants to, but he's just afraid."

Alex scoffed. "I don't deserve his forgiveness—"

"Alex. You may not be the brother you think that he deserves, but you are the _only_ one he has," Sean's grip tightened painfully for a second and then let go. "So suck it up. Talk to him."

"And say what?"

Sean smiled. "That you're sorry you were late, but you're here now."

* * *

Nathaniel Essex stalked through the trees gracefully, his steps never snaring on raised roots or slipping on wet leaves. A team of black clad mercenaries moved around him just as silently, their weapons and gear glinting in what little moonlight managed to reach them. They had left the van on the back road, a three-minute exfil between it and the target.

They stopped at the edge of the woods, a perfectly manicured lawn all that stood between them and the mansion. In daylight it would have been impossible to cross without being seen, but under the cover of darkness their approach should remain undetected.

Some fool had had the idea to turn the place into a school. Somewhere 'safe' for mutants to learn control of their gifts and live as close to normal lives as they ever could. Essex scoffed lightly at the idea. What a waste.

A CIA agent had pulled Scott Milbury's file, a sparse trail of breadcrumbs leading all the way back to Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Further investigation and reconnaissance had proven Scott's location, right down to the bedroom he was staying in. Essex frowned. Who knew what backwards steps this Xavier fellow had done to Scott – and when he was so close to reaching his potential too.

"I want him undamaged. Understood?"

Essex wasn't finished with this particular Summers' boy yet.


	8. Chapter 8

It was three in the morning, and once again, Alex Summers could not sleep.

If anyone else were awake to ask, he would tell them that his day-long nap had messed with his (non-existent) sleep-cycle; and perhaps that did have something to do with it. But if he were to be more honest, he would admit that he simply could not shut down his brain.

Sean was right.

No matter what Alex's guilty conscious wanted, painting himself as the bad guy in this situation didn't help anyone. He didn't want to be forgiven – he knew that that was more than he could ever deserve – and he would never be able to forget _(again),_ but he had to think of what was best for Scott.

The more that Alex learned of what Scott had been through, the more that he realised just how strange the instant trust on their first meeting had been. Scott had been raised in a hostile environment, his only caregiver an obsessive man who saw him as a commodity, not a person. He had never had a friend, never had a family. No one had ever shown him a kindness that wasn't motivated by ill intentions. But while blind and essentially helpless, Scott had trusted Alex. And that trust had allowed Scott to feel comfortable and safe, and gradually led to him trying to make friends on his own.

Even as young and resilient as he was, it was amazing how well Scott had adjusted in such a short amount of time.

But then Alex had turned around and betrayed him. Pulled the rug right out from under him and shattered the foundations on which Scott was building. Already he was becoming withdrawn and distant again; refusing to even talk to the other kids that he had been playing with just the day before, and staying as far away Alex and the others as he could.

And it was Alex's fault. How could he have told Scott that he had simply _forgotten_ about him? As true as it was, it was heartless and cold. It made it sound as if Scott was unimportant and insignificant enough to be so easily cast aside. That the one person that he had trusted to care for him didn't actually care enough to even remember him.

Alex had wanted the blame to land squarely on him, felt that he warranted it for what he had done. He wanted to punish himself, just like Sean had accused him of. Once again, he was too wrapped up in himself to realise just who he was really hurting.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, and more than a little self-loathing, Alex kicked the side of the counter. His bare toes throbbed at his own stupidity, but it was better than accidentally burning the place down with his unstable powers. He had found himself in the kitchen again, perched on the same stool as before and staring into the glass of water that he would use as an excuse if anyone sought him out again.

It was time to let go of the past. Alex had always thought that he was good at that. He had never truly mourned his parents, too busy looking for a brother that he would later believe didn't exist. He had walked through life with a kind of apathy, unable to really care about anything or anyone – holding everyone at arm's length and believing himself to be on his own. But it was _Scott_ that was _truly_ alone. No matter how Alex felt or what he believed that he deserved, what Scott needed was more important.

That was what being a big brother was supposed to mean.

Alex needed to talk to Scott, properly this time. Scott needed to know that Alex forgetting about him wasn't voluntary; that his big brother really had tried to find him. That Alex was a victim of Essex too.

It was a child that had let Scott down. A kid that had made mistakes in a situation that he couldn't hope to understand. But Alex was sixteen now. A soldier. An X-man. Hell, he was practically the field commander of their little team. He could protect Scott now. They knew who the enemy was, and this time they wouldn't be facing him alone.

He couldn't change the past. Couldn't erase the past seven years or the scars that they had left behind on his little brother. But Sean was right. Alex _had_ found Scott. _That_ was what mattered now.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Alex tested quietly in the silence of the kitchen. "But I'm here now."

Taking a deep breath, Alex slid off the stool and ditched his untouched glass by the sink. It was still ungodly o'clock in the morning and there wasn't a chance that he would ever get to sleep, but he could probably fake it at least until the sun actually rose. The Professor had offered to help him sleep again, but just the thought of a telepath going anywhere near his mind had a headache forming right behind his eyes. Besides, he didn't want to lose another day – he had already lost enough time with Scott.

The manor house was eerily quiet as Alex padded softly through the halls; the near year that he had spent there preventing him from getting lost even in the dark. It was just as he was climbing the last set of stairs that a scream cut through the night.

Alex froze. A lot of the younger (and older) kids had bad nightmares; the places that they had been found in before coming to the school enough to fuel night terrors for a lifetime – but the scream hadn't sounded like the cries that Alex had heard before. It was laced with the fear of something real, not the shadow of monsters faced before.

Without another thought, Alex raced back down the stairs, running down the corridor towards the younger student dorms. He could just make out the sound of muffled voices and booted feet; children whimpering and the rustle of a struggle. It didn't seem possible, not in the safety of the school, but somehow Alex knew that strangers were in their home. His hands curled into fists, the heat of his power warming his chest as he sprinted down the last hallway.

"Let her go!" Scott's familiar voice shouted, followed by a growl that most likely belonged to Rahne. Alex could just make out shadows backlit by moonlight before a _slap_ was followed by the sound of something small hitting the carpet. _"No!"_

Red light lit up the corridor, the powerful beam ploughing along the tops of the doorways before cutting off as Scott shut his eyes.

The dark that followed the sudden brightness was absolute, but Alex had seen what he needed to. Several men, wearing black and armed at least with guns, filled the hallway. Some of the bedroom doors had been opened, their occupants now lying in the corridor (hopefully only unconscious, Alex hadn't seen any blood). One of the men was carrying a limp Clarice while two more were holding back Scott and Rahne who had been trying to fight back, until one of them had slapped the glasses from Scott's face.

Anger wanted to bring Alex's powers to action, but luckily, he had enough control to hold back. He couldn't risk hitting the kids, so instead Alex broke into a dead run towards where he had last seen the man holding Scott. He dropped his shoulders and caught the man in the side with a rough tackle, dragging all three of them to the ground. He punched the man in the temple to keep him down before grabbing Scott under the arms and lifting him up.

"It's me," Alex said as Scott gave a frightened cry and kicked out blindly. Alex set him on his feet and put his back to the wall. "Stay."

He didn't have time to check if Scott would do as he was told, as much as he wanted to. His element of surprise was gone, the other kids were still in danger, and the men were quick to recognise him as a threat. Alex kept moving, kicking at the knee of the man holding Rahne, just as the young feral sunk her sharp teeth into the man's arm. He shouted and let her go, leaving him open for Alex to jab him hard in the throat. Rahne shot past Alex, ducking to pick up Scott's glasses before running to join him.

More of the kids were coming out of their rooms to see what all the commotion was, the situation quickly spiralling into chaos. The Professor must have picked up on all their fear and distress by now, which meant that it wouldn't be long before Alex had back-up. He just had to keep the kids safe until then.

The man holding Clarice had dropped her in favour of bringing his weapon to hand, leaving Alex barely a second to duck as the gun was sighted and fired. Alex hardly registered the odd noise that the weapon made as he grabbed the barrel and twisted hard, breaking the man's fingers. He followed through with a left hook that sent the man sprawling, just missing Clarice who was at risk of being trampled where she had been abandoned on the floor.

Alex grabbed Clarice around the waist and passed her onto an unsuspecting kid who had just opened his bedroom door. The boy caught Clarice automatically, eyes widening in fear and shock at the sight that greeted him. Alex gave his shoulder a shove. "That way! Go!" he ordered, garnering the attention of the other shell-shocked children. "Everyone! Go!"

A punch to the jaw reminded Alex that he was vastly outnumbered and still couldn't use his powers while the kids were in the line of fire. At least they were moving now, a couple of the older kids even going back to pick up the unconscious ones and getting them to safety, allowing Alex to focus more on the fight. But his back-up still needed to _hurry the hell up._

Alex repaid the punch in kind, but now all of the attention was on him. The remaining men converged, one of them catching his fist and twisting his arm hard behind his back. The bullet wound in his shoulder (not as healed as Alex had claimed) screamed at the mistreatment, pain shooting all the way to his fingertips. Another man punched Alex hard in the gut, forcing out a shout of pain and a stomach full of bile.

When Alex looked up, the taste still bitter on his tongue, he found the barrel of a gun aimed at his chest. There wasn't time to do anything before it was fired at point blank range.

Somehow, he didn't end up dead.

Alex gasped in a shuddery breath, his lungs expanding despite the fact that he had just been shot. His chest burned like that one time that Hank had used Alex to test out some lightweight armour that he was experimenting with; more bruising than the tearing of the now familiar pain of a bullet. Alex's head drooped with sudden exhaustion, his vision greying at the edges as his eyes fell on the dart protruding through his night shirt. Tranquiliser.

"That is not the model I asked for," a voice cut through the fog in Alex's head. His heart beat double time in his chest as a panic Alex couldn't identify constricted his breaths. Flashes of trees – the stark whiteness of a hospital – _pain._ Fear _. I do not tolerate disobedience, Alex_. "Where is the boy?"

 _Scott_. Alex didn't know how or where the certainty came from, but he knew without a doubt that the voice belonged to the man who had taken Scott. The man who had controlled Scott's life, messed with his powers, isolated him in a lab and run his sick experiments on a child. The man who had torn the memory of his little brother from Alex's mind.

The rage boiled into uncontrollable heat, the red energy called into life and spiralling around Alex without conscious thought. The wild lashes whipped outwards, tearing through brick and plaster just as easily as flesh and bone. The smell of burning filled the corridor.

Without the two men to hold him up, Alex sagged to his hands and knees, the tranquiliser dulling his senses. There was a dismembered arm at the edge of his blurring vision, and Alex's stomach turned.

He had killed again.

"Well, this is unexpected."

Alex lifted his head and glared up at Nathaniel Essex. He stood entirely unscathed between two smouldering scorch marks gouged in the wall. He wore a grey business suit and immaculate dress shoes. If it weren't for the red and black eyes he would have looked like a high-end lawyer, grinning at Alex like a snake. "I had wondered where you had gotten to Alexander. I never imagined you would be so easy to find once the CIA had their hooks in you."

There were still seven men left, plus Essex. Alex stared at them all, panting hard as he tried to control his anger and think logically. Hank and Sean had to be on their way by now. It felt like it had been hours, but it had probably only been a few minutes since Alex had leapt into the fight. Even if they had stopped to check on the kids running their way, they should only be another minute or so at most. They could handle the men.

But Essex? Alex wanted to _kill him_. Essex would never get anywhere near Scott again.

Essex smirked as if reading his mind. Alex realised that he most likely was. _Screw control_. Alex staggered to his feet. His power came to life like a raging inferno; more heat and more strength than Alex had ever felt before circling around him. It flew from his tenuous grasp as if it had a life of its own, blasting outwards like he was the epicentre of an explosion. Alex tried to give it direction, to throw all of his power at Essex, but the energy kicked like an unruly animal.

At least three of the men were caught in the backlash; one them left staring at a stump where their hand used to be, the other two unconscious from where they had been knocked head first into the wood panelling. The carpet was on fire, quickly spreading and filling the air with smoke.

The remaining men were looking at Alex in fear. Their fingers were on their triggers in seconds, three more darts embedding deep into his thigh and stomach and flooding his body with sedative. Alex fell to his knees and then on to his side, heavy with drugged exhaustion.

"As impressive as I knew you would be," Essex praised. His suit was no longer pristine and his right ear was missing. He batted absently at the flames on his sleeve. "But still not quite ready. Now, where is young Scott? He and I still have some work to do." 

"Alex!" Hank shouted in warning, giving Alex about two seconds to cover his ears before Sean lived up to his codename. The high-pitched wail echoed down the hallway, shattering light fittings and cracking picture frames that had somehow managed to survive the growing fire. The remaining men shouted in pain, but not all of them dropped. One of them got their hands on their gun, cutting Sean off with a surprised grunt.

Alex looked up blearily as Hank bounded past him. He coughed as he breathed in the smoke, feeling detached and foggy. Sean was on the ground, a dart sticking out of his neck. Hank was beating up the last of the men and Essex… Essex was staring past it all, down the corridor that Alex had sent the kids.

Where he had sent Scott.

"Ah, there you are," Essex smiled. "Come along now, Scott."

Alex struggled to move, pushing himself onto his elbows as he looked back at his little brother. Scott was stood at the end of hallway, his hair sticking up with bed head and his glasses sitting wonky on his nose. His skin was white, colourless with fear, his breath coming in short pants and his hands shaking where they were curled in fists by his sides. He looked so damn _young_. Absolutely terrified. And facing his worst nightmare.

"No," Alex said, forcing himself onto his knees. Hank took down the last of Essex's men with a well-placed punch, turning to face Essex with a threatening growl. The world was warping around Alex but he tried to call on his power anyway. _I just got him back_. "You can't have him."

Hank launched at Essex, claws extended and teeth bared. Essex simply raised a hand and made a gesture as if he were batting a fly, and abruptly Hank was flying the other way. He smacked hard into the wall, splintering the plaster and exposing the brickwork underneath, before falling to the floor with a thud.

And then Essex turned to face Alex, frowning impatiently. He made a choking gesture with a slightly charred hand, and suddenly Alex couldn't breathe. A presence wrapped around his throat, lifting him by the neck. And then he was whipped sideways, his head cracking the wall, and everything went black.

* * *

"I think that's quite enough of that."

Scott gasped as his brother went limp, the invisible grip on his throat releasing him and dumping him on the floor. Sean was unconscious from the dart in his neck, Hank was knocked out and Alex… Alex wasn't moving and there was blood soaking his face.

 _No. You can't have him._

Scott stood there, utterly frozen; shock, terror and shame fighting in his pounding heart. Alex had fought for him. A part of Scott always knew that he would, but Scott had been _so_ _mad_ at him. Said those horrible things. Wished that Alex had never told him that they were brothers. Denied ever having one in the first place. But Alex had still come running when Scott had shouted, pulling him away from the bad men who tried to take him. If Scott had stayed with the Professor and the others, he would have been safe.

"Scott, you know that I do not tolerate disobedience," Essex said warningly, taking a step towards him. Scott stumbled backwards. Distance. Distance was the key. Scott had learned that if you were far enough away, the doctor couldn't get into your head and control you. "Come here, Scott."

Scott shook his head desperately, his glasses shaking precariously on his nose. His eyes scanned the three unconscious teenagers. One of them had to wake up. _Please_. _Alex._

"Must we really do this?" Essex asked, as if it were Scott causing him such an inconvenience, daring to defy his being kidnapped. Essex gestured offhandedly at Alex, and suddenly Alex was moving. His body was dragged across the floor, through the flames eating the carpet. They charred nothing more than his clothes, his power protecting him, but Scott still hissed in fear. Alex was pulled to standing like a puppet on strings. "Would you rather I take your brother instead? He did offer to take your place before after all. Do you think that it is Alexander's turn?"

 _Let him go, please. You can take me if you want but please, let Scotty go_

Scott squeezed his eyes shut, his glasses slipping as tears spilled down his cheeks. "No!"

"No?" Essex repeated. Alex was propped in front of him like a shield, blood dripping on to his ash covered shirt. Essex slung a faux-friendly arm around his shoulders. "Didn't you two have a fight? Alexander here feels so terrible about it all. Forgetting all about you all this time. Abandoning you. I would have thought you'd have wanted him to have a taste of what you suffered."

"No!" Scott shouted, stepping forward, hand outstretched.

Essex smirked.

Ice water trickled down Scott's spine, his muscles turning leaden. _No._ His right foot moved. _No. No._ Left foot. Right foot.

Left foot.

 _NO!_

Scott closed his eyes not wanting to see Essex getting closer, his feet moving clunkily as he was forcefully walked down the corridor. His broken glasses fell from his face, thumping on the carpet.

Scott opened his eyes.


End file.
